


Elastic Heart

by HoddieMaine



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: Abusive Lotor, Abusive Relationships, Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Angst and Fluff and Smut, Depressed Lance (Voltron), Depression, Found Family, Homophobic Language, Internalized Homophobia, Lance from age 7 to 30, M/M, Platonic Coran and Lance, Some dub con with Lotor, Underage Drinking, adoptive dad Coran, orphan lance, shklance - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-23
Updated: 2017-07-23
Packaged: 2018-12-05 22:00:08
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 26,896
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11587032
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HoddieMaine/pseuds/HoddieMaine
Summary: He's 30 now.It's only been a handful of years since he hit that magic 25. When the the world felt like it was crashing down all around him. All the vibrant freedom of youth and having no clue what to do with it, because wasn't he supposed to be “grown up” now?





	Elastic Heart

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ninke_A](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ninke_A/gifts).



> For the amazing Lindsay, I hope I did this justice for you.
> 
> UPDATE: THERE IS NOW AMAZING ART THAT I WILL LINK AT THE END (it's for the last scene so I don't want to spoil)

_“I am a breathing time machine, I'll take you all for a ride. Break this tired old routine and this time don't make me leave.”_

 

He's 30 now.

It's only been a handful of years since he hit that magic 25. When the the world felt like it was crashing down all around him. All the vibrant freedom of youth and having no clue what to do with it, because wasn't he supposed to be “grown up” now? 

When you're a kid, you foolishly plan your life by ages. He remembers at 7 thinking he'd be in a loving committed relationship by 23, maybe even married, kids by 25… but 25 came and went and he hadn't even managed the first part. For the best probably.

He remembers being 7 years old. Having his whole life ahead of him. But 7 year old Lance didn't know that his parents would both be gone within the year. That small happy boy didn't know that he'd spend so many years afraid of everything around him. Didn't know that even after he developed his trademark thick skin, that he'd spend even more years afraid of himself.

If he could go back, what would he say to himself?

By the time he was 8, he was in foster care. He seemed to fare better than most. Despite his circumstances, Lance was pleasant to be around and most of his fosters seemed to like him. Other kids would tell him horror stories of all the horrible circumstances they had been through, bouncing from house to house, but so far he'd been placed with foster parents that did not mind his presence. However, a lot of his foster siblings did not feel the same.

Once a strong willed, sharp tongued honor student, now a broken and quiet thing. He wasn't sure if the bruises or the insults hurt worse. He never seemed to be able to focus any more. No matter how hard he felt like he tried in school, it didn't seem to matter, so he just stopped trying. It's not like he had parents to disappoint any more right?

He had finally been moved from the most overcrowded home he'd been placed in. He was no more than 14. The new home wasn't the worst, probably not the best, but Lance hadn't made any enemies yet. In fact the two other boys about his age living with him weren't too bad. The older one was a couple years older than Lance, and probably almost out of the system. He was tall and handsome and kind. He always seemed to be helping the younger kids with homework. He even coaxed Lance into playing soccer with him in the backyard. The younger one was kind of a grump and something about him made Lance want to find his buttons and push them. He had weird taste in movies, but the unintentionally hilarious commentary more than made up for it.

Lance had gone a long time trying to bond with his foster siblings, had memorized every new name and face, had considered every one of them his family. The last home with all the angry boys with hard firsts and harder hearts had made him stop. And to be honest, he was tired. Tired of all the goodbyes, all the in with the new and out with the old. Maybe his heart was growing hard too. When a couple weeks came and went and the older boy left for good, Lance felt the shift. Not even a day later and his movie buddy was gone. Something happened and suddenly they were all being removed from the house.

Lance missed them. He had said so to a new foster sibling. He'd been called a faggot. There weren't bruises this time, he almost missed them in comparison.

At 15, Lance left.

He just left. Packed up a backpack and left. 

He'd spent most of his life sweet talking and blending in, so that's just what he did. He did ok, he was still alive. But winters are brutal for someone without a home.

Lance had passed a small bookshop every day for two weeks. It always looked so inviting. Bursts of warm air wafting out as customers came and went, comfy armchairs, a hot cocoa machine near the front. Maybe… maybe the owner would think he was looking for a book and would let him wander through… just long enough to warm his hands… that's all he needed.

A small bell chimed as Lance walked through the door. The blissful warmth washed over him and he couldn't help the sigh that escaped his lips.

“Quite cold out there, isn't it?”

Lance jumped a little at the odd, peppy man that had just popped around a rack of books. He was dressed in a white button down and navy cardigan and he had the bushiest orange mustache Lance had ever seen. Lance wasn't sure if that was more shocking or the accent. He definitely wasn't from around here.

“Uh… yeah. Really cold… I, um, am looking for a book?”

Lance was hoping he could just warm up in peace and not have to interact with anyone. He was afraid if they looked too closely, they'd know. Know he hadn't eaten all day, that he hadn't slept more than a couple hours on a bench, that he hates himself more and more each day… he shook his head, trying to dislodge those thoughts.

“Well, you certainly came to the right place!” The man beamed. “What can I help you find, my boy?”

“Uhhh…” shit.

“Ah! One of those! I see, an adventure in finding the book itself! Well, what interests you? History? The great literary classics? Horror, adventure, sci-fi-”

“Yes!” Lance panicked, he didn't know! “Yes, um, sci-fi sounds good…”

“Ah, a young man after my own heart!”

He winked conspiratorially at Lance and beckoned him to follow him further into the labyrinthian shelves. As he rounded a corner, he began to pull the occasional book from the shelf, seeming to not even look at the titles as he grabbed.

“Now, I myself am partial to the 60’s and 70’s dystopian/utopian sci-fi brilliance of the likes of Philip K Dick and Frank Herbert,” the man supplied as he piled paperbacks in Lance’s arms. “However, something can be said for new works, The Martian was very riveting. And of course, we can't forget our roots, Wells, Shelly, Verne… how do you feel about graphic novels? Some say they besmirch the holy name of literature, but I think it's a fascinating medium!”

He turned to see Lance balancing nearly twenty books in his arms, a look of bewilderment on his face as he struggled to hold on to the haphazardly placed books.

“Um… I guess?”

“That's the spirit!”

The man led Lance to a table tucked away in the chaos of the shelves. Lance spilled the contents of his arms out onto the surface and the man directed him to plop into a chair.

“Now, you stay here and give these a looksie and see if anything catches your eye. I'll be back to check on you.”

And with that he bustled back up to the front of the store where Lance could hear the bell chiming. He breathed out a sigh, settling into the insanely comfortable beat up arm chair. He idly picked at a hastily sewn on patch as he took in the mess in front of him.

He reached out and picked up the book closest to him. He turned it over in his hands, fingers brushing the soft edges of the cover. Someone had clearly loved this copy of Ender’s Game.

“Hard to read with your eyes closed…”

Lance jolted in his overstuffed arm chair. He was slumped half over one of the armrests and the crick in his neck told him he'd been like that for awhile. He sat abruptly, tangled in a soft blanket that draped across one shoulder and down to his legs. A young woman with dark skin and hair like the whitest clouds Lance had ever seen, was standing in front of him, scowling.

“Uh… sorry, um..”

She rolled her eyes and set down a mug of what smelled like hot cocoa.

“You aren't the first to fall asleep back here reading, and you certainly won't be the last.”

She didn't look that much older than Lance, but the way she carried herself and the posh accent similar to the mustached man made her seem so much older. She pushed the mug his way and started to stack and tidy the books on the table.

“Uncle Coran asked me to bring you some cocoa… Are you just lazing about or were you actually going to take one of these?”

“I can't- I don't…”

What was he going to tell her? That he didn't have enough money for even the rattiest old paperback? That he couldn't even pay for this hot cocoa? 

“Allura, is that how we treat our valued customers? Hmm?”

The mustached man... Coran, Lance supposed, came back around the corner, a bright smile and a cart of books in tow. He patted Lance’s shoulder as he continued through the stacks. The girl, Allura, looked sharply his way.

“Anyway, we closed five minutes ago. It's pretty late, shouldn't you be at home? Your mother must be worried.”

Lance blanched. The sickness in his gut must have shown on his face because her scowl softened momentarily. She opened her mouth, and he could see the question forming on her tongue.

“My boy, did your adventurous search for your next literary experience end in success?”

Lance’s eyes darted from Allura snapping her mouth shut to Coran. He reached blindly next to him.

“Um, this one? It uh seemed interesting, but I wasn't sure… I think I need to sleep on it?...”

God, they must be able to see through him like cellophane.

“Ah, Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep, one of my favorites! It starts a little slow, but I promise, it's worth it. Would you like me to bag it for you?”

“No!” Oh god, too much, reign it in Lance. “Uh, no, no, that's ok, um, maybe I'll come back tomorrow…”

“Of course. Let me get you a to go cup of cocoa then, it's quite cold out!”

“Oh, no, I can't, um-”

“Nonsense! We have to dump out what's left at the end of the night anyway, you'll be doing me a favor,” he said as he walked back to the front of the store. Lance followed sheepishly.

Allura went around turning off lamps and counting down the register as Coran made him a large to go cup. Lance could feel the warmth through the sleeve. He didn't know how to articulate how Coran had made his day a little easier. He was at a loss for words, so he accepted the cup and struggled to look Coran in the eyes.

“There you go! That'll keep you warm for a bit.”

“Thank you.” His voice was as small as he felt in this moment.

“Quite welcome, my boy. We hope to see you tomorrow, I'll get you to come over to team Dick yet!”

Lance nearly choked on the sip of hot cocoa he'd been taking. Allura shook her head and wandered off as Coran just beamed. Lance laughed and thanked the man again before walking out into the biting cold. The warmth of the bookshop had pushed the iciness of the weather from his mind.

He pulled up his hood and took a long sip of his cocoa as he trudged through the streets.

. . . 

Lance would be lying if he said he hadn't wandered in an ever shortening loop around the bookstore the next day. 

It was the first time in far too long that he had slept so soundly. He had been warm and he had felt so safe in his armchair, but he couldn't just loiter. They weren't a library, he couldn't just hang out and read for free. Eventually he'd have to buy something… 

He watched Coran open the shop, not even the early morning dampening his pep. A pickup truck had pulled in front and Coran greeted the driver before the man jogged into the store. Coran lowered the tailgate and wiggled a large box to the edge. Lance could see it was brimming with books. He watched as Coran unloaded a few boxes. Lance was mildly impressed by how much Coran seemed to be able to lift, he must've been hiding some muscles under those cardigans.

After the fifth box or so, Coran pulled out a slightly bigger box, and Lance could tell his grip was awkward at best. Lance watched as it slipped out of his hand. He didn't realize just how close he had gotten until he was catching the dropped corner of the crate. Coran made a noise of surprise but didn't say anything as they maneuvered the box to the curb with the others.

“Ah! My dear boy, you have saved these books from a gravelly tumble,” Coran laughed. “Thank you for the help! I didn't get your name yesterday.”

“Lance…”

“Coran, I'm so sorry, I had to take a leak,” the driver said as he jogged back out to the truck.

“Not to worry, Lance here saved the day!”

Coran paid the man, shook his hand and turned back to Lance as the driver took off.

“Usually I have Allura to help me on delivery day, but she won't be out of school for another hour or so.”

“I can help you, um, if you want.”

“Why, that's very generous of you! Come on, and I'll make some fresh cocoa.”

Lance helped carry in the boxes and Coran made good on his word. He sipped his cocoa as book after book was pulled from the boxes. It turned out that sci-fi wasn't the only genre Coran was nuts about. He seemed excited with every new title he called out to Lance.

Lance helped unpack a few himself. There seemed to be brand new, never before opened books mixed with frayed and yellowing books he'd never even heard of before. He came across the same book he'd randomly picked up yesterday.

“Looks like you got a double,” Lance said.

“Well look at that,” Coran said as he peered over at the one Lance was holding. “You should take it off my hands, no sense in two copies.”

Lance whipped his head to look at Coran, but the man had already gone back to cataloging. Lance petted the cover. He smelled the old pages and smiled to himself.

“So, does Allura work here full time? She doesn't seem that much older than me.” He was starting to feel more relaxed with Coran. If he had noticed Lance was wearing the same clothes as yesterday, he didn't comment on it.

“Well, she started taking a couple of classes at the community college, but yes, she works here quite a bit. The store was her father’s before. Technically the store is Allura’s, when she's old enough to take it.”

“Oh.” Lance felt like he was treading on thin ice. “Was he your brother, or…”

“We were best friends, known each other since we were kids,” Coran said, keeping his eyes on his books. “Allura calls me uncle… her mother passed when she was just a baby, and her father just a few years ago. Left everything important to him in my care, including Allura.”

Lance stared at him, tears in his eyes. Coran met his eyes finally, a sad smile on his face.

“I've done my best with her as well as the shop, I think, but it's not as easy as he made it seem.”

“She's lucky… to have you,” Lance croaked out.

“She says so, but we’ll see if she feels the same way after I've run her father’s store into the ground.” He laughed hollowly.

“Are… are you hiring?”

Coran squinted at him long enough that Lance began to squirm where he sat.

“How do you feel about math?”

“I'm pretty good with it?...”

“Do you know the Dewey decimal system?”

“Does anyone?”

“No, I don't think so,” Coran laughed full belly, and it must have been contagious, because Lance found himself joining in. “You're hired!”

“Just like that?... don't most places have like applications or resumes… an interview?”

“Have we not just had our interview?”

“Uh, I guess?”

Coran dug out some paperwork from some ancient looking files and had Lance fill out his information. He hoped Coran didn't look too closely because he had made up an address as well as emergency contact information. Coran told him that he'd be getting an official check every other Thursday, but any tips accumulated on his shift were his to keep.

“When do I start?”

“I think you already did.”

With it having been a Saturday, Lance hadn't had to explain not being in school, but Coran had crafted a schedule around hours of nonexistent schooling. He gave Lance some more paperwork to have signed by himself and his legal guardian, made him another large to go cup and sent him on his way.

Lance was already several chapters into his new book before he fell asleep that night. He had never been so happy to be seeing another day. 

. . .

“Ah, Lance! Right on time!”

“Actually I think I'm early.”

“Right on time for being early! Now, I'll be in my office running the books, but Allura here will show you the ropes.”

Lance found her sitting on a stool behind the register, popping gum and flipping through a book. She barely looked up at Lance as he approached. She held up a finger and after a moment or two she placed a bookmark into the book and set it aside.

“Ok, Lance is it? Uncle Coran said you're going to be helping out while I'm in school.”

“Yes.”

“Have you run a register before?”

“No.”

“Have you ever worked retail before?”

“No.”

“Have you ever had a job?”

“No…” Oh god, fired on his first day.

“Hmmm… well, what's your favorite book?”

“Wha- is this a trick? If I don't answer right, am I fired?”

“Well, I don't know, I guess it depends,” she said, but she winked and smiled wryly.

“Umm… I haven't really finished a book in awhile… The Hobbit was my favorite when I was little though.”

“Ahh, I told Coran you were a fantasy fan! Princesses, paladins, monsters! Your favorite book says a lot about you. And a fan of The Hobbit is-”

“Hold up, let me guess, the most handsome slash best fan?” He could hear the painfully false bravado in his voice, but Lance really didn't need to be analyzed, he really didn't want to hear about how terrible he is, how he needs these fantasy worlds to escape his own, to pretend like he's someone else and not this fucked up, unwanted, disgusting thing.

Allura rolled her eyes and turned away, heading into the stacks. Shit.

“We’ll start with reshelving,” she called. She came back out with a cart laden with books. “By the time you put all of these away, you'll pretty much know the layout of the shelves. If you have any questions or get lost, just yell.”

Lance breathed a sigh of relief. At least he wasn't fired. Yet.

. . .

Ok, this system was crazytown. There was seriously no rhyme or reason, everything was chaos. Lance had already been there for two hours and he'd barely made a dent in the piles of books on the cart.

It was more like a stream of consciousness than an actual system. With books grouped together with only vague similarities. He was pretty sure he'd found the same book on three different shelves. He was holding a book in each hand and trying to decide if either one of them had enough haunted talismans to justify adding it to the shelf in front of him when he heard someone approaching.

“Break time,” Allura smiled from around the corner.

He followed her up to the front where she already had two cups of steaming cocoa and pastries set out for them. She patted a chair before sitting in the one across from it.

“So, Lance, how is the reshelving going?”

“It's uh, going…”

Allura laughed and Lance swore she could melt the polar ice caps with it. He was definitely blushing.

“It's madness, right? Coran says there's a system, but I can't seem to keep up with it.”

“Oh thank god,” he laughed. “I was worried I was going to be fired on my first day.”

“No, my uncle seems to have taken a liking to you…” she paused to consider him as he sipped his drink. “You feel familiar, I think you remind him of my dad when they were kids.”

“Oh.” Lance’s eyes widened as he let that wash over him. “I'm… sorry about your loss…”

Allura tsked and looked out the large front window.

“I'm tired of people’s condolences, it's always, ‘I know how you must feel’, no you bloody well don't.”

“I do.”

Allura suddenly looked very much like an owl, and then like a fish. Her mouth opened and closed a couple of times. Lance braced for the onslaught of questions.

“I knew we were kindred spirits.”

And with that Allura sipped her cocoa and they sat in amiable silence. At the end of their 15 minutes, she shooed him off and told him if he could figure out Coran’s system, she'd give him her next paycheck.

At the end of the week, Lance was given a key. Coran told him it was for locking up behind him when he left the nights he closed, since Coran and Allura lived in the apartment above the shop, they wouldn't always have to walk him out. It made logical sense, but Lance couldn't help but feel like he'd been given a gift.

He had no intentions of breaking their trust. Coran and Allura had already been kinder to him than anyone he'd met in a very long time. But the winter was only getting worse, he hadn't slept on anything dry in days. Maybe it was the biting cold, or the lack of sleep, but he found himself unlocking the door to the bookstore and slipping inside, making sure to catch the bell before it could chime.

Even after hours it was delightfully warm. Lance slinked through the store to the back storage room. He pushed around some of the crates of cocoa and sugar, and made a spot for himself on the floor. He was asleep as soon as he was settled.

He woke to the sounds of Coran and Allura waking up above him. He managed to sprint out the front door before anyone was the wiser.

. . .

“Hey, Coran?”

“Why can't I get this blasted thing to work,” Coran exclaimed as Lance peeked into his office.

“What?”

“Excel! And we've been losing customers lately and I just can't seem to streamline things like Alfor did, I just-” he sighed heavily.

“I like it, it's uh, quirky?...”

“Sorry, Lance, my boy, what did you need?”

“Oh, uhh, I was wondering if I could pick up more hours?”

“Child labor laws, I'm afraid, can't work you more than I already am. Why? Saving up for a car or something?”

“Um, yeah, I guess,” Lance lied. He needed money to survive and the more time he spent in the bookstore, the less time he had to survive on the streets. “Well, can I just like hangout when I'm not working?”

Coran squinted in Lance’s direction.

“You're always welcome here, Lance, even when you're not working.”

“Cool… thanks.”

“Is there something you need to talk about, Lance? Are things alright at home?”

Oh god. He had managed to skate around any talk of family or home life. Allura knew he'd lost his parents, and either she hadn't told Coran or he assumed he'd been taken in by someone. Coran could obviously see the panic in his eyes.

“I promise, you can talk to me about anything.”

“No,” he croaked. “Nothings wrong at home…”

Technically not a lie if he didn't have a home, right?

“I saw you under a bridge the other day.”

Lance whipped around to see Allura standing in the doorway, her eyes glassy. He felt like he was going to puke. He should have known they'd eventually find out. They wouldn't keep him around now, he just knew it. He wanted to run. Run and never come back, but Allura had his only exit blocked.

“Allura, I told you to let me handle it.”

“You're being too delicate.”

“Lance, I know you're on hard times, and well, we don't know your whole story, but whether you've run away or what have you, you're a child and I cannot let you sleep on the street.” Coran stood slowly so as not to spook him, and placed a gentle hand on his shoulder. “If you're in trouble, let me get in touch with the authorities, and if you've run off and someone is missing you-”

“No one's missing me.” His mouth was dry, but his cheeks were wet with tears.

“Well, I can't imagine that to be true, but in the meantime, there's an extra bedroom in the apartment. It's yours if you want it.”

Lance wept. He didn't realize he'd fallen to the floor until Coran was kneeled down with him, patting his back.

. . .

Allura closed up early. He didn't have any belongings, so he didn't have anything to move in, but they locked the doors and Allura and Coran ushered him upstairs.

The apartment was bigger than he expected, open yet cozy. Knick knacks artfully cluttered the shelves, framed pictures on the walls, blankets strewn across various seating. It wasn't what he had pictured, but it suited them regardless. There was a guest bedroom off a little hallway, next to the bathroom. It smelled like fresh linens.

“Blues my favorite color,” he managed to say.

The bedding was a deep blue, the walls a much softer and lighter shade, just barely more than a light grey. It looked like at one point they had gone for a nautical theme, but had scrapped the idea halfway through. He loved it. It already felt more like home than any of the foster homes ever had.

“Showers next door. Leave your clothes in the hall and I'll wash them for you. I'll lend you some pajamas for the night.”

Lance had never taken such a long shower. He let the hot water turn his dark skin ruddy and his fingers to prunes. When he got out and toweled off, he spotted the pjs that Coran must have snuck in. They were light blue with navy stripes, and Coran had even left him a pair of ridiculous blue cat slippers to match. Lance loved them.

Coran wished him goodnight and told him to sleep in as long as he wanted, he didn't work early the next day. He told him to make himself at home, and then retired to his own room for the night.

. . .

It was the most comfortable bed he could remember sleeping in. He was warm and cozy and safe for the first time in a long time. He was ready to have the best nights sleep.

Why the hell couldn't he fall asleep?!

Lance tossed and turned. He could see the moon through the window next to his bed, but it did nothing to comfort him. He finally kicked the covers off and sat up. He was afraid his pacing would wake Coran and Allura, so he snuck down to the bookstore to deal with whatever meltdown he seemed to be having now.

Why did he let them take him in? What were they thinking letting some street rat into their home? They barely knew him! If they knew him, they wouldn't have asked him to stay. They wouldn't have even hired him! He was a high school dropout, with no money, no parents, no talents! He was disgusting and unwanted and they didn't deserve to be subjected to him! He would only fuck it up, and they would see how worthless he really was.

Lance was pacing.

His legs burned as he stomped through the racks for what seemed like hours. He finally grew tired and slumped in the chair he had fallen asleep in the first time he'd come here. There were a couple books left on the table. He took a deep breath and reached for them. He should put these away real quick, so Allura wouldn't have to in the morning.

He rounded the corner and down a row and slipped it into the shelf second from the bottom. He turned to walk away before realizing what he'd just done. He hadn't even thought about it. He smiled wickedly and raced over to the register.

Lance grabbed a notepad and jogged straight back into the racks.

. . .

He woke to Allura pulling paper from under his chin.

“What is all this? And why aren't you in bed?”

Lance was slumped over the table, pages of notes and diagrams spread out under his face.

“I figured it out,” Lance yawned. “I figured out his insane system, and then I made it better.”

Allura stared at him, then stared at the paper, and the stared back at him.

“Coraann! Make sure my check is made out to Lance this week,” she called across the store.

“You were serious?!”

“Of course, I always keep my word.”

“Now what's all this,” Coran said as he came to join them.

“Lance broke the code, and now he's going to fix it.” Allura smiled and headed for the door to start the day.

Lance groggily led Coran around, handing him various bits of paper and pointing out where he thought it would make sense to make changes to accommodate their customers. Coran had brought in a lot more niche books than during Alfor’s time, but had not planned how best to expand before just jumping in with it. Lance had plans to slightly alter the shelves to make the flow a lot easier on customers not used to Coran’s odd ways. Coran followed him around with stars in his eyes as Lance explained the setup.

Coran hugged him tightly and sent him to bed, keeping all the diagrams.

. . .

Lance remembers being 15 and finally feeling safe again. 

Coran implemented the new shelving. He let Lance decorate a-signs to put out front. Lance and Allura redecorated the front sitting area. Allura and Coran helped him to get his GED. He could feel himself coming back piece by piece. Allura was like the fiery older sister he had never known he wanted, and Coran was supportive of every new idea Lance came up with. He was supportive of Lance.

He remembers feeling so much more at home in his own skin as he sailed past 16 and onto 17.

But years of fear and self hatred made for hard habits to break.

Lance would sometimes sneak out just as stealthy as he had snuck in years before. Usually it was just for an hour or so, just to clear his head. Sometimes he'd pass by the college campus and end up partying with strangers. They fell for his insincere smiles so much easier than Coran and Allura did. Working retail had given him the skill to bullshit, to plaster on an easy going expression and fake confidence and self assurance. Plus, they usually had booze.

Lance liked to walk the line of tipsy and drunk. He didn't want to slip up. So he drank until he was fuzzy around the edges, and flirted shamelessly with the pretty girls. Sometimes it worked. Sometimes there weren't any girls around and it was just some buddies pre-gaming. Lance was always more on edge on those nights.

Luckily, as he rounded a corner and saw a front lawn littered with co-eds and even more plastic cups, he could already tell it was not one of those nights. He zigzagged through the crowds of kids, laughing and talking and pouring himself a beer. There was some sort of game going on in the dining room, and he stopped to watch. A pretty blonde girl convinced him to join in.

. . .

Everything was hazy. How much time had passed?

Lance stumbled as he plopped down on the front porch. It was significantly cooler than when he arrived. Most of the party goers had disbanded, but there were a handful of people out front.

“Hey, man, you alright to get home,” some random guy asked him. Lance struggled to bring him into focus.

“Uh, yeah… yeah. I live a couple blocks over… um, Altea Books,” he explained. He was pretty sure he only slurred a little.

Someone to his right laughed a little.

“Dude, the guy that owns that place is fucking weird.” Lance’s head snapped toward the speaker. “I went in to see if they had a book I needed for my lit class, and that faggot was like way up in my business, it was-”

Lance didn't even remember standing, but he was on top of the guy and beating down with hard fists. He was pulled off the guy, but not after leaving his mark on his face.

“What the fuck,” the guy bellowed.

“Don't talk about my fucking dad like that!”

The kid laughed as he spit blood on the ground.

“Don't want me talking about your fag dad, why you a faggot too?”

Lance's eyes went even wilder. He managed to pull himself free and launched at the guy. He was pretty sure he'd knocked a tooth out by the time he saw red and blue flashing lights approaching. Everyone left in the front yard took off in various directions. Lance wanted to stay and beat the guy within an inch of his life, but Coran would be so disappointed if he ended up in jail and even worse would be Allura. She'd probably kill him.

He raced around alleys until he was safe at his own back door. He let himself in, but his head was spinning and when he looked up the stairs, they did that thing in movies where it seemed to stretch and get further away. Lance pushed his palms into his eyes and stumbled to the beat up armchair hidden in the shelves. His fingers brushed the old frayed patch as he passed out.

. . .

“Lance.”

Lance could feel a cold wet rag being pressed against his face. It felt so nice as it wiped across his cheeks.

“Ah, shit,” he hissed as he sat up. The rag had snagged an already scabbing cut. Coran was kneeled in front of him and ice pack and bowl of water on the table. Lance couldn't tell what Coran was thinking. He looked like he was trying to decide whether to comfort or chastise.

“What happened?”

Lance's head pounded and he felt like he was going to be sick, but unfortunately he seemed to remember everything from last night.

“I got into a fight.”

“Well, I believe that much is apparent.” Coran continued wiping the blood off his face.

“I went for a walk,” Lance huffed, he never lied to Coran if he could help it. He didn't deserve that. “There was a party and I was talking to some kids my age, and one… one bad mouthed you.” Lance shrugged.

Coran stood abruptly.

“Lance, you got into a fight because a stranger said something rude about me?”

“No! Yes- I mean, they couldn't just call you that!”

“Lance, they were just words. You shouldn't have-”

“They called you a- a faggot…”

“Well, it's not exactly the nicest way to put that is it?... but, it's not as if they're entirely wrong.”

Lance snapped his eyes up from the floor to look wide eyed at Coran.

“You're gay?”

“Yes, of course, my boy,” Coran laughed. How had this never come up in conversation before?

“Oh… I mean, that's- that's- I mean…”

Coran smiled warmly at him.

“Lance, I hope it doesn't, but I understand if it makes you uncomfort-”

“No!” Lance didn't even let him finish the word. “No, uh, I think, I mean, not like gay gay… uh but I think I'm um… I like girls and boys…”

“Bi.”

“You're making me leave?”

“Goodness no,” Coran laughed. “Bisexual. Is that what you're trying to tell me?”

“...yes…”

“Alright. Well, should we make some cocoa, or do you just want to go to bed?”

Lance scratched his head, his brow furrowed. He kind of had expected his coming out to be more of a… just more… 

If he was honest with himself, he was expecting to be tossed out like yesterday's trash. He had always felt… wrong… but if Coran was- well, it couldn't be so terrible, right?

“Cocoa, definitely.”

. . .

He remembered getting closer and closer to 18 and preparing to take classes at the community college just like Allura had. Business had steadily been climbing in the last year and Lance had helped Coran wade through recent applications. He picked out a kid only a year younger than him that was still in high school but taking a couple credits at the community college. He'd be lying if he hadn't picked the application mostly for the weird name, but he reasoned that they had an impressive resume and it would be nice to already know someone at the school.

Coran set up an interview with Pidge for the next week.

A significant amount of their recent foot traffic seemed to be due to a bistro opening up next door. Lance could smell fresh bread baking and sweet yet savory aromas filtering through the windows at all hours. He woke up mouth watering and was distracted during working hours.

He finally walked over on his day off. The place was quaint and jam packed with people. A frazzled young woman came over and told him it might be a few minutes. He looked over and saw a sort of bar type seating near the back and said he'd sit there if that was alright, since it was just him anyway.

The food was out of this world and Lance couldn't stop telling every employee that walked by just how much he was enjoying everything. He left a sizable tip and headed back to the shop.

“Lance, can you take out the trash,” Allura called as she heard him come in the back door.

The bag was already there, but Lance could hear Allura talking with a customer, so he grabbed it and went back out. He saw a big guy that looked about his age heading for the dumpster, several bags in tow. Lance opened the lid for him.

“Thanks, man, one of those bags was starting to rip and the smell was about to make me heave.”

“No problem. Which building are you coming from?”

“The Bistro, I'm on break so they stuck me on trash duty first.”

“Oh man, I ate lunch there just a few minutes ago and it was amazing! I haven't eaten anything that good in forever!” Lance was practically bouncing. “You gotta tell the chef that the food was out of this world!”

The guy laughed, his smile broad and contagious. “Well, he says thank you.”

“You're the cook?! Holy crow, dude!”

“Yeah,” he laughed. “I'm Hunk.” He reached out and shook Lance’s hand.

“Lance. I guess we’re sort of neighbors then. Altea Books.” He thumbed over his shoulder.

“That's great! I've been wanting to check that place out.” Hunk looked down at his watch. “Oh man, I gotta be back soon, see you around?”

“Yeah, definitely!”

. . .

Pidge mentioned Asimov in the first five minutes of her interview and was hired on the spot. She was feisty and smart as hell, and Lance instantly felt like she was part of the family. Hunk had become a staple in the shop as well. During breaks he'd pop over and chit chat, and frequently came in during his days off. 

Coran would come out of his office to find the three teens spread out at one of the round tables at the front, catching up on homework while it was slow. Something cosmic had brought these two odd kids into their lives, but he was thankful everyday, because Lance was like a new person. He had steadily been growing more confident since working in the store, and he was learning to relax and just be a kid, but Coran knew a lot of it was a show, mostly put on for him. Hunk and Pidge made those smiles, that laughter, more and more sincere everyday.

He tried to remember that when they blew up the cocoa machine and had to work together to rebuild it.

. . .

He layed in bed. The sun was past his window, and it was long after he usually got up. Lance stared at the ceiling, making constellations out of the glow in the dark stars stuck there.

It was his birthday.

His eighteenth birthday.

He sighed and rolled over. If he got up, it would be real. He didn't want it to be real. If he was actually 18, then there was no reason for him to still be here. A soft knock on his door interrupted his thoughts.

“For he's a jolly good fellow, for he's a jolly good fellow, for he's-” Coran caught sight of Lance’s face as he walked in, tray in hand. “What could possibly be so wrong on the extraordinary day of your birth?”

“I'm eighteen…”

“Yes! The age of manhood.”

“At eighteen, you're kicked out of the foster system.”

“Well, then, it's a good thing you haven't been in the foster system for a few years now.”

“Right… so, I'll pack my things and-”

“Why on earth would you do that?”

Lance looked at him, confusion marking his face.

“So that… I can leave?”

“Lance, this is your home. You don't have to leave unless you want to. I would never kick you out.”

“But… why? Why would you let me stay? No one's making you!” Lance buried his head in his pillow in an attempt to hide the tears threatening to fall.

“Because, you're family, my boy,” Coran said gently. “Besides, Allura went through all the trouble of putting together a bit of a party for you and if she doesn't get to embarrass you in front of your friends, she'll be very displeased.”

Coran winked and passed Lance the tray.

“Don't worry, Hunk dropped it off for you, I wouldn't dare feed you on your birthday, you rotten thing.”

Lance laughed taking the tray. “Your cooking is an experience, Coran, and I'm just trying to live through another birthday.”

Coran left and Lance ate in relative silence. Coran and Allura were too good to him. He didn't deserve it, and they didn't deserve to be stuck with him. He loved them, but he wasn't blood. He was a burden.

True to word, Allura had invited Pidge and Hunk over for cake and presents. She told everyone about how weird Lance’s nighttime habits were and how sometimes he talked in his sleep. She reminded them all frequently how much she loved her little brother. Lance had to excuse himself to cry in the bathroom the first time she said it.

“You know, if you try and leave, I will kick your ass,” Allura had said in hushed tones while they had washed the dishes together.

All Lance could do was shrug. He didn't want to make promises he couldn't keep. There was an itch deep under his skin, a dark voice telling him he shouldn't be here any more.

“This is your home for as long as you want it to be. If it were up to me, you'd stay forever, but I realize that's not very realistic of me. One day you'll want to go start a family or see the world, but I want you to know that this will still always be your home.”

The plate he had been holding clattered into the sink. He wrapped his arms around Allura and if she was bothered by his soapy hands, she didn't voice it, just hugged him back. They stood like that for some time before she sent him off to bed. He laid awake for most of the night, lost in thought.

. . .

He remembered roughly a year later and being smothered in Coran and Allura’s arms as they tried not to cry.

He had decided to move into a tiny apartment near campus with Hunk and Pidge. It was on the other side of town, he kept reminding them. Mostly he was reminding himself. 

He had packed all the clothes the three of them had shopped for together on so many different family outings. He packed one of the random seashells that had littered one of the shelves when he first moved in, along with various odds and ends Allura and Coran had given him over the years, and a mess of books. It was silly to get so worked up. He still worked in the bookstore, would still come home for birthdays and holidays and random family dinners.

He loaded everything into Hunk’s beat up old truck and they drove in a bubble of excitement to the apartment. Pidge was already there and unloading boxes in her room. Lance and Hunk brought in all the boxes and once his stuff was at least in his room, Lance sat down heavily on his new bed Coran had insisted on getting him so he would still have one back home.

He pulled out his cell and flipped it open. 

“Lance? Did you forget something? I can bring it over if you-”

“No… I just miss you…”

“Oh. Well, do you want me to come by after we close?”

Lance laughed. He was being ridiculous.

“No, no that's ok, I just wanted to check in.” He wiped at his suddenly damp cheeks. “Just see what you're doing.”

“Ah, well, Mrs. Kirkland came in for a new romance novel-”

“Ew. She's like a hundred, every time she comes in I can't look her in the eyes,” he laughed.

“Yes, well, she came in and insisted we were not keeping current in an effort to dissuade her from her interests. Said we were far too excited about aliens. Now I'm trying to do research on the whole romance novel community to make sure we're properly stocked.”

“That's crazy town,” Lance couldn't stop the wet cry-laughing that wracked his body. “Did Joe drop off the new shipment? I put in an order for some specialty aeronautic books that Pidge suggested and some new titles to expand the hobbies and-”

“Lance, it's your day off, and you're moving into your first apartment. Do you really want to talk work?”

There were a million things he should be doing like unpacking or homework, and a million things he could be talking about. His fears and insecurities, how much he already missed the eclectic home above the bookshop, how much he missed them.

“I just wanted to check in…”

“I miss you too... I imagine this will be a bit of a struggle for awhile, but you are going to do such great things and experience so much. Think of it as an adventure, and know that you always have a home to return to.”

Lance nodded, tears streaming down his face as he assured Coran that he knew and wished him a goodnight.

. . .

He'd end up doing the exact opposite of what Coran had said, and whether it was a blessing or a curse that he didn't remember much of that time, he would never be able to decide.

After 2 years of trying so hard and still somehow falling short, Lance dropped out of college. It was a reckless decision, but that's what he was these days. Reckless.

After being compared to some other student once again, Lance had licked his wounds for the last time and had packed a bag and left. Just left. He took the bus to a town over and found the seediest club he'd ever seen. He flashed a fake ID and found himself in a sea of bodies.

He could feel his phone vibrating in his pocket, Pidge and Hunk blowing it up. He ignored it as he tried to order a drink. He wasn't looking to get talked off the ledge, he'd been a slight on their lives for a long time. He sensed eyes on him and no sooner than he had decided to turn to seek them out, a tall good looking guy slid up next to him.

“What are you drinking,” he drawled.

“Unfortunately nothing yet.” Lance pouted while he eyed the stranger. He had long blonde hair and sharp features, but mesmerizing eyes.

He seemed so sure of himself as he ordered them each a drink and escorted Lance to a table. Lance knew he was bi… pan, whatever, he knew he liked all sorts of people, but he hadn't ever actually been with a guy. He'd only ever found slurs and fists when his sexuality came into play, and no guy had ever interested him enough to be worth it.

“Lotor.” The guy put his hand out and Lance shook it.

“Lance.”

“Well, Lance, did you come here alone, or are you here with someone?”

“No,” he managed to choke out, coughing on his strong drink. “Just me.”

The look Lotor gave him sent chills up his spine. Like he wanted him. Like he would eat him alive. It sent little shocks of thrill through his body. 

“In that case, would you like to dance?”

They finished their drinks and Lance allowed himself to be led out onto the floor. The bass thrummed in his chest. The liquor loosened his limbs, chasing away some of his nerves. Lance laughed as he danced freely. He grew ever more confident when he realized Lotor had not taken his eyes of him.

He swiveled his hips and ran his hands up and down his body before stepping even further into Lotor’s space. He bit his lip as he ran his hands across Lotor’s body. Lotor caught Lance’s hands in his own, raising one to press a kiss into his dark skin. Lotor pulled him closer, their hips bumping together and grinding with the beat. Lance felt on fire. 

He stood on his toes and pressed his lips against Lotor’s. Before the song had even ended, they were making out in the middle of the dance floor. Lotor bit along his jaw and towards his ear.

“Let me take you home.”

The husky voice went straight to his dick, but as soon as he considered the offer, he realized just where he was. What he was doing. He had left home with no notice, faked his way into a bar and was seconds away from hooking up with a stranger.

“I, ha, I should actually,” Lance laughed awkwardly, all his previous bravado gone. “Last bus probably leaves soon.”

Lotor looked him up and down, a hungry expression curling his lips. Lance was just this side of uneasy before Lotor chuckled, nodding.

“Of course.” He snatched a napkin from a nearby table and asked a waitress for a pen. “Here's my number… if you're ever back this way.”

Lance took the napkin, Lotor’s number elegantly scrawled across it. He nodded and smiled at Lotor before ducking out of the club. His step felt a little lighter as he walked back towards the bus station. He tucked the napkin into his pocket, pulling his phone out to check the time.

He had 17 missed calls, 5 voicemails and 32 texts and counting.

Fuck.

Almost all of them were Pidge and Hunk. He didn't bother opening them. One text was from Coran. He opened their thread, guilt chasing away the excitement leftover from the club.

PAPA CORAN:  
There is nothing like looking, if you want to find something. You certainly usually find something, if you look, but it is not always quite the something you were after.

Lance had to fight back the tears that welled in his eyes, a small smile warring with the pain on the rest of his face.

LANCE:  
That's not fair you can't use the hobbit against me like that

PAPA CORAN:  
I do not know what you mean, young man. Simply reminding you of a very thought provoking quote from your favorite book.

LANCE:  
Sure…. are Hunk and Pidge there?

PAPA CORAN:  
I invited them for pizza.

Lance actually laughed at that. He wiped away some of the tears that had escaped. He didn't deserve any of their love. He was such a fuck up, I mean who just takes off like that?

LANCE:  
Save some for me

. . .

A few days and a hundred apologies later, Lance was doing laundry. As he waded through various clothing items, he fished out a stick of gum, 78 cents, and a partially shredded napkin.

Lotor’s number stared back at him. He'd kind of forgotten the napkin in the fallout of his misadventure. Hard to remember some hot stranger when Hunk is crying and stress baking and Pidge is trying very hard to maintain some sort of cold shoulder routine.

Lance reaches for his phone. Why not?

LANCE:  
Hey. This is Lance. From the other night? We kissed?

Lance shook his head. Try again.

LANCE:  
Hey. This is Lance.

Short and simple. He hit send and tossed the phone on top of the pile of laundry in the basket before carrying it all back to his room. He set it down on his bed and started gathering things around his room to put away, before he heard a faint buzz.

HANDSOME STRANGER:  
I had hoped you'd text me

Lance felt a jolt of excitement. He'd had dates throughout his teens, not many, but a handful. Even a couple of makeout sessions he wasn't exactly proud of from his days of sneaking out to random college parties. But no one had ever seemed excited to hear back from him. He was king of one and done.

LANCE:  
Oh yeah?

He refrained from adding that he was just glad it was actually Lotor’s number and not a fake.

HANDSOME STRANGER:  
Of course, it's not every day I get to dance with someone so handsome

Lance blushed. He had to sit down.

LANCE:  
Yeah likewise

Oh god. He was not very good at this.

HANDSOME STRANGER:  
Plan on coming to town soon?

LANCE:  
lol I don't know maybe? I didn't have any plans to

HANDSOME STRANGER:  
Well if you change your mind let me know

Lance smiled to himself.

LANCE:  
Will do

Lance pocketed the phone. He brushed it off when Hunk teased him later about looking like he had a crush. He re-read the texts when he crawled into bed, giggling to himself a little.

. . .

LANCE:  
I'm so tired of feeling like a second rate citizen in my own home

HANDSOME STRANGER:  
Care to elaborate?

LANCE:  
It just seems to always be Hunk and Pidge this, Hunk and Pidge that, Lance stop, Lance you're outvoted, Lance can't you be somewhere else? Sometimes I feel like it'd be better if I just moved out.

Several minutes passed without an answer.

LANCE:  
Sorry didn't mean to dump on you like that

HANDSOME STRANGER:  
Sounds like you need a night out. Meet me at the club.

Lance looked at the top of his screen. It was just after six. If he jumped in the shower now, he could catch a bus and make it to the club by about 7:30. He let a bright smile break across his face and scrambled off his bed.

. . .

The club was twice as packed as last time. The sharp scent of spilled sweet liquor and sweaty writhing bodies on the dance floor permeated the building. Lance squeezed through to the bar and ordered a lemon drop, keeping his eyes out.

He finished his drink. And another. He ordered a third, not making eye contact with the bartender as the drink was slid to his tucked away corner of the bar.

He took a couple small sips, appreciating the bite as he watched beautiful people bump in time with the bass. No sign of long nearly white hair and a jawline to cut glass. Wouldn't it be just like him to get stood up.

An arm snaked around his waist causing him to nearly spit his drink. Lance whipped around to see Lotor stepping into his bubble.

“Oh.. holy crow, you scared me… thought I was being stood up.”

“How could anyone stand you up? It would be a sin to leave someone so beautiful waiting,” Lotor practically purred into his ear.

Lance felt the blush climb up from his chest to his cheeks. He laughed nervously. Lotor draped his arms around Lance.

“Nah, come on, I'm not that-”

Lotor brushed his thumb across Lance’s lips, silencing any further protest.

“These lips alone would have ensured my presence.”

In a rush, Lance pushed up onto his toes and pressed his lips to Lotor’s. Maybe it was the alcohol starting to eek its way through his system. That's what he'd blame it on. The kiss was bruising and desperate in a way Lance had never kissed someone before.

Hands found purchase in hair, hips bumping, and before Lance could really process it, he was being pushed up against a bathroom stall as Lotor locked the door behind them.

Lance’s head smacked against the wall when Lotor’s lips met his again. Teeth caught his lip and pulled. Lotor gripped his hair tight and turned his head to bite and suck at his neck and partially exposed collar bone. Lance failed to hold back the high keen in his throat when Lotor pressed his knee between Lance’s thighs.

Lotor pulled back and looked Lance up and down, a hunger in his eyes. If Lance hadn't already been hard, that look would have done it for him. Lotor gripped his shoulders tightly and pushed him to his knees. 

Lance only had a moment to panic about never having given a blowjob before Lotor pulled himself out. He pressed his hard cock to Lance’s lips, smearing precum from one corner of his mouth to the other. Lance looked up into Lotor’s lust filled eyes.

He tentatively licked at the swollen head. Lotor gripped his hair, pulling his head into an uncomfortable angle. Lance opened his mouth, and Lotor pushed in.

He set a pace far more intense than Lance would have liked for his first shot at this. He could feel tears at the corners of his eyes within moments. His fingers dug into Lotor’s thighs just praying those three drinks wouldn't be making a reappearance.

All the while, Lotor hissed out encouragements between grunts. In no time, he came hot and thick down Lance’s throat. He choked and sputtered, cum leaking out of his mouth as Lotor pulled out, stroking the side of his head.

“God, look at you,” Lotor breathed, just barely audible over the music being pumped into the small bathroom. “My pretty little slut.”

Lotor pulled him to his feet, collecting some errant cum on his thumb and pressing it back into Lance’s panting mouth. He stroked his cheeks and neck with those long fingers.

“Touch yourself. Put on a show for me.”

Lance's erection was little more than a half chub by now, but Lotor’s intense gaze raised goosebumps along his flesh. He palmed himself through his jeans. Lotor whispered sweet nothings into his ear as he unzipped his pants and wiggled them down his hips, pumping himself to the beat of whatever mashup seemed to be playing.

He came, all of his energy leaving his body with his release.

They made short work of fixing their clothes and hair. Lance noticed with disappointment that a drop of somebody’s cum was staining his favorite shirt. 

They ordered a couple more drinks, danced a little and then Lotor was heading to his absurdly nice car and Lance was headed to the bus station. He stared silently out the windows at the passing headlights all the way back to town.

Pidge was still awake when he traipsed in. She tried to ask if he was alright, had he been visiting Coran and Allura, and several other questions as he passed through and went straight to his room and flopped onto his bed.

. . .

LANCE:  
I think Pidge forgot we were having roomie one on one time while Hunk works tonight

LOTOR:  
Since your schedule is open, you should meet me

LANCE:  
Yeah?

LANCE:  
Ok

. . .

LANCE:  
I'm stuck at work for at least another hour but I think Hunk and Pidge went grocery shopping without me :/

LOTOR:  
After work come to the club

LANCE:  
Can't, we’re supposed to be making dinner together

LOTOR:  
They excluded you from grocery shopping, do you really think they want you there for dinner?

LANCE:  
...yeah I guess you're right, see you soon

. . .

LOTOR:  
Come to the club

LANCE:  
I'm watching a movie with the roomies. Besides, I have work in the morning.

LOTOR:  
The roommates that exclude you at every turn? The ones that make you feel less than?

LANCE:  
I mean, I don't think they do it on purpose… I was just having a rough day

LOTOR:  
They don't care about you, Lance. You're just someone to help pay the bills. Let me care for you.

LANCE:  
I still have work…

LOTOR:  
They can make due without you. They don't need you there. Whereas I need you here.

LANCE:  
… give me like an hour

. . .

As the weeks progress, Lance spends more and more nights at the club, wrapped in Lotor’s arms. They always end up locked in a stall. At least Lance has gotten better at it, he thinks.

It's exhilarating to be so wanted. Lotor tells him how beautiful he is. How he would give him the sun and the moon. How no one will ever care for him like he does. And he shows Lance. In the way he kisses him hard and the way he calls him pet, it's written across his tongue and lips as he cums down Lance’s throat time and time again.

“Where have you been,” Allura asks as he lets himself through the back door.

He's hungover as fuck, and he knows the dark shades still on his face despite the barely lit back corner of the shop are a dead give away. He's hoping he can still play it off.

“I just can't seem to shake this migraine.”

It's not entirely false, but definitely not the reason he's called out the last two days. The look Allura gives him tells him she's been talking to either Hunk or Pidge. That she knows he's full of shit. She looks ready to shred him, but just at the moment Coran comes bustling out of his office.

“Ah, Lance, feeling better? We missed you around here. I almost brought you my family’s secret recipe Get Well Soup, but Allura notified me that you think it tastes like hotdog water and feet, so I thought, best not.”

Guilt turns his already tumultuous stomach.

“Yeah, a little bit,” he lies. “Just this headache, you know?...”

“Yes, of course, I'll make some fresh cocoa then, that always seemed to help when you were just a small thing.”

Lance laughed. “That was only a few years ago.”

“And look how you've grown!”

Lance shook his head fondly, though he regretted it immediately. Coran busied himself with the machine, while Allura fixed him with a harsh stare.

“Are you seeing someone,” Allura asks, her abrupt tone causing Lance to flinch a little.

“What makes you ask that?”

“Hunk.”

Damn it, Hunk.

Lance sighed. “I mean… sort of?... it's… new.”

“Have I met them?”

“No, I don't think so… he lives in another town.”

“What's his name?”

“What's with the third degree?”

“I'm just doing my job as your big sister.” Allura jams her fists into her hips, scowling.

“As long as you're happy, Lance,” Coran smiles. “Are you happy?”

“...I think so?” To be honest, he hadn't really considered it. He liked being wanted though.

“Then that's all that really matters.” 

Coran handed him a steaming mug and patted his shoulder before making his way back to his office.

“If he breaks your heart, I'm breaking all of his limbs.”

“I think the saying is just ‘I'll break his leg,’” Lance laughed.

“I know what I’m about.”

. . .

He doesn't remember going against Coran’s words, because everything gets a little fuzzy. Just a blur of too many nights drinking with Lotor, and finding himself on his knees in a public bathroom.

He can feel the shift in his relationship with Hunk and Pidge. He knows he's causing a rift. The tension is palpable in their little apartment. He finds it harder and harder to meet their eyes. He feels sick. He doesn't deserve them. They don't deserve to have to put up with him in their lives. They would just be better off if he wasn't around. He's doing them a favor really.

He doesn't remember many nights from that year, but he does remember the first time he stays at Lotor’s.

Nervousness and tequila buzz through his veins. The elevator causes a stir in his stomach as they climb higher. Lotor statuesque as he watches Lance. When they come to a stop, they emerge into a penthouse suite Lance could only imagine seeing on tv.

“Holy shit.” He forgets his nerves for a second to stare at the outrageously nice place.

“Take off your clothes,” Lotor commands from behind him.

Lance has gotten used to being bossed around. He complies. He knows if he's not quick with it, Lotor gets mad at him. He doesn't want to make his… whatever Lotor is to him, to be mad at him.

Lance cries while he loses his virginity.

Lotor tells him how beautiful he is. How perfect. How he needs him. How he needs him in his bed every night. Lance cries just a little bit harder. A broken sob escapes his chest when he cums.

. . .

It's a slow progression.

A slow drift, not a harsh break, and maybe that's even worse.

Over weeks and months, Lance stays the night at Lotor’s more and more frequently, until he's basically just housing his stuff in his room at the apartment. Hunk and Pidge still hangout with him on days when he works or swings by for clothes. He sees the disappointment on their faces. He knows he's somehow letting them down, just like he always manages to do.

The blur of drunken sloppy sex and whispered words to keep him coming back for more, slip slide as well. Lotor comes home later and later. Sometimes Lance thinks he might smell someone else on his lips and neck when he finally comes to bed. Lance fills the loneliness with the expensive alcohol Lotor keeps around the apartment.

Work is a haze. He's not even sure he's sober by the time he drags in early in the morning. If Pidge picks up his slack more and more, neither of them acknowledge it.

Lance spends less and less time with Hunk or Pidge or Coran or Allura. Lotor might come home to an empty apartment, and he'll give Lance the cold shoulder, and the silence is bad enough when it doesn't also include another person. So he sits and drinks and waits and when Lotor comes in, he lays Lance out and shows him why he needs him there.

Sure, the others ask, they always ask. He tells them, that it's complicated, but that Lotor takes care of him, he's never been dressed so nice in his life, but Lotor likes him to look nice. They don't ignore the bruises that bloom on his wrists, but he tells them he shouldn't have to defend his and Lotor’s sex life.

So twenty passes like fog in the night. At 21, he feels more alone than he ever did living on the streets. He goes to work, dodges questions, comes home, makes sure there's something for Lotor to eat if he decides to come home, and he uncorks a bottle. Rinse. Repeat.

Lance cries himself to sleep on his 22nd birthday. He barely made an appearance at his family birthday dinner because he and Lotor were supposed to do something. When he walked into the apartment, it was empty.

He awakes to Mr. Blue Sky blaring from the phone near his head. His screen lit up with a silly selfie of him and Coran.

“Hey,” he croaked into his phone.

“Lance, how was your night? Did you and Lotor have a good time?”

Lance moved into a sitting position, dragging a hand down his face. He clears his throat a little.

“Uh, yeah, it was fun. So much fun I'm ready to pass out.” He gave a halfhearted chuckle. He hated lying to Coran, but he couldn't bare the pity, or Coran knowing just how worthless he was. Couldn't even keep his boyfriend’s attention on his own birthday.

“Ah, well, I'll let you get some sleep then. Happy birthday, Lance.”

“Thanks, Coran.”

“Love you, sleep well.”

“Yeah,” Lance barely worked through his tightening throat. “Love you too.”

He heard the click on the line, but he sat frozen, the phone still pressed to the side of his face. He flinched when he realized there were footsteps behind him in the bedroom.

“You're in bed early,” Lotor drawled.

“It's not that early.” Lance waited for a retort but none came. “I guess I was just ready for today to be over.”

“Rough day?”

Lance could hear Lotor removing his shoes and jacket.

“Well. We were supposed to spend my birthday together, but I guess you forgot,” he bit out.

“Oh yes, your birthday,” Lotor laughed. “Well, I'm here, we can spend it together now.”

Lotor had shed the rest of his clothes and was climbing up behind him on the bed. He planted open mouth kisses across Lance’s tensed bare shoulders. Lotor manhandled Lance into laying out on the pillows, despite Lance giving him no help and refusing to look at him.

“I had to lie to Coran.”

Lotor huffed a laugh as his lips ghosted down Lance’s neck. His hands trying to pry Lance’s arms from their crossed position.

“That batty old man wouldn't know you were lying if you told him you were sleeping with a purple alien.”

“Don't talk about my dad like that.” Lance's eyes finally locked with Lotor’s a fire in his gaze.

“Lance.” Lotor fixed him with an unamused look. “He's not even your dad.”

Lance looked disgusted and taken aback. He pushed against Lotor’s chest.

“Let me up.” Lance tried to sit and uncage himself from Lotor’s arms.

“Are you kidding me? You're not going to let me have you because of some false familial bond to a bumbling fool? The man is an idiot.”

Lance shoved hard at Lotor’s chest, shoulders, face whatever he could reach. His wrists were grasped in those strong hands that had once filled him with excitement. Lance felt himself being pushed back onto the bed in an all too familiar way. He kicked out, one of his feet connecting with Lotor’s side.

“I said don't talk about my dad like that!” Lance was red faced and yelling, spit flying from his mouth.

He felt lightning strike and blossom across his left eye. The punch left him stunned. He could feel tears spilling down his cheeks, the flesh of his left eye already swelling. He grasped it, curling in on himself before realizing Lotor was standing away from the bed.

“Fine. You care about those people so much? Go back to them. But know they'll never love you. How could they possibly love a disgusting slut like you? Such a colossal fuck up. Good riddance. Not even that good of a lay-”

Harsh insults followed him around the apartment as he gathered what few things actually belonged to him. Lotor was ever the cool and collected, unfeeling asshole Lance had known he was for a long time. He didn't even bother to make sure Lance left. No door slam, as if to say he wasn't even worth the interest, the attention.

He slinked into the elevator and hit the button for the main floor. He staggered barefoot into the street in a daze. He made it less than a block before collapsing on a bench.

He hated how familiar that was. 

He put his shoes on shaking like a leaf. He tried to let his breathing even out just a little, but the longer he sat there, the closer he was to hyperventilating. He reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone. 

It rang twice.

“Lance?”

“I'm sorry,” he sobbed. “I- I didn't know what to do. Can- can you come get me?”

“Yes, of course, are you alright? Are you hurt?” Lance could hear Coran scrambling to pull some clothes on.

“I- I fucked up, I-” Another raking sound erupted from his throat. “It's over between me and Lotor… I just… I want to come home, Dad.”

“I'm on my way. Where are you? Are you somewhere safe?”

“I'm a few blocks away from the apartment at the entrance to the park.”

Coran took a deep breath. “I'll be there soon. And Lance?”

“Yeah?”

“It's going to be alright.”

Lance couldn't hold back the body shaking sobs that ripped through him. He hung up with Coran and pulled himself in tight on the bench. He cried himself silent by the time Coran pulled up and helped him into the car.

He noticed halfway home that Coran had two different shoes on and a Christmas sweater over his sleep shirt and crumpled jeans that he'd probably grabbed from the hamper in his haste. A wet laugh broke out of him. He wiped the snot from under his nose. 

“Lance, we don't have to talk about any of this tonight, but when we get home- is that a black eye?!”

Lance gently brushed a finger at his left eye, and hissed when it made contact.

“I'm going to kill him. I'm turning this car around and I'm going to kill-”

“Coran!” Lance put his hand on the wheel to keep him from trying to turn around. “He's not worth it… please.”

Coran softened at the pleading in Lance’s voice. He kept looking at him every few seconds, but he eventually nodded and continued home.

Home.

The cozy eclectic apartment above an overstuffed magical little book store. God, he couldn't wait. He could feel his little bed under the glow in the dark stars calling his name.

. . .

Time is altogether a dragging passage and a whipping rollercoaster. 

The years hurry on in the way they tend to do as you age. 22 turns to 23, and 24 and 25 follow so quick after. It isn't long before 27 is knocking at his door, and the family trips to the mall all blur together a little and Hunk and Pidge have felt like they've been part of his life for an eternity. 

After months of slinking around the apartment dodging questions from Coran and Allura, he tentatively moves back in with Hunk and Pidge. His time ends up divided, but no one comments on it the same way they stop commenting on his black eye. He's healing, and they make a space for him to do so.

Hunk finds a girl and she moves into the little shabby apartment with them. Pidge graduates earlier than Hunk, and Lance takes on full time hours at the bookstore for the first time since he was a kid. Allura moves to a nearby studio apartment and Lance seems to still spend as many nights in Coran’s apartment as he does his own.

Things are the most alright he thinks he's ever known. It makes him uneasy.

Business is booming, though. Coran jokingly praises “all of the millenials keeping us going” every night when he closes down. Allura has talked about the potential of opening another store since their space seems to get tighter and tighter trying to accommodate so many different books. 

Pidge’s brother, Matt, ends up picking up random hours to help out with the large amount of traffic, when he isn't working for some super secretive space exploration program he's been trying to recruit Pidge into. Lance sometimes catches Allura watching him. He only teases her a little.

Things are good, they really are. 

But he's 27 now, and what does he have to show for it? Hunk and Shay are planning their wedding, they'll be moving into their own place eventually, having kids, doing the things 27 year olds are supposed to be doing. Pidge has her pick of programs and well on her way to being the next big tech whiz. What is he doing?

He's looking into the face of moving back home completely. He's working the same job he's worked since he was a teenager. He has only really been with one person, and he wishes he could say his partner history was zero. He's damaged goods and nothing special.

. . .

Summer heat permeated Altea Books. The central air just can't seem to keep up, and sweat pools on his lower back. Lance uses the down time between rushes to reshelve books and make fresh lemonade currently replacing the cocoa machine. The bell chimes and he calls out from just around the corner from the door.

“Welcome to Altea, if you need any help, just yell.”

Lance continues to stir lemon slices into his concoction, footsteps retreating into the stacks. Kids run past the front window, loud laughter infectious and causing a light smile to grace his lips. The lemonade deemed perfect, he returns to sorting the new shipment of books. A bunch of kids books, a couple of cheesy harlequin novels in the late Mrs. Kirkland’s honor, and the newest best sellers.

He climbed up onto the step stool, reorganizing the romance section for the new additions. He could hear the children out front still, a loud thump hitting the window. Lance twisted quickly to make sure they weren't breaking anything out front, the one ever so slightly shorter leg of the stool causing him to wobble abruptly.

“Woah, careful.”

Hands gripped him, keeping his footing on the stool. When Lance turned to thank his savior, sweat broke out along his neck and words failed him, because he was looking into the eyes of the hottest guy he'd ever seen.

“Are you ok,” the tall, insanely ripped man asked. Lance registered the scar across his nose, shock of white hair and high tech prosthetic arm. He looked like a damn super hero straight out of one of his books.

“Uhh… yeah. Yes. Thank you.”

Lance climbed down, blushing and fumbling. The guy was several inches taller than him, and god was Lance weak.

“You shouldn't be up that high without someone spotting you.”

“Oh, haha, yeah, you're probably right. Just me here today though.” Lance ran a hand down the back of his neck smiling sheepishly.

“Is this your place?”

“No, it's uh- no…”

“It's definitely different.” Lance laughed, and for a moment the most beautiful smile graced the stranger’s face. “Has it been here long?”

“Yeah, like almost 40 years, I think.”

“Huh, I don't remember it.”

“Oh, are you from here?” He was like a model, how could he be from this area? Allura was the only person in town that could rival this man, but Lance knew full well where she was from, and it wasn't this nowhere town.

“No, but I spent some time-”

“Hey. Are you ready yet?” 

Lance and the stranger both turned to see a grumpy looking guy about Lance’s age staring them down. Looking like every one of Lance’s bad boy wet dreams from his youth, black leather jacket and boots with a red band tee of some sort, black shaggy hair brushing his shoulders. If it wasn't for the glare he was shooting at Lance and the fact that he had just interrupted Lance and the male model’s conversation, maybe Lance would have thought he was hot. Instead he was kind of just irritated.

“Yeah, sorry, just talking to the clerk. Find what you were looking for?”

The guy just kept staring at him. Even when his hot friend was speaking, the other guys eyes never left Lance’s face. Maybe they were together. Maybe he thought he was getting chummy with his boyfriend.

“No. Let's go grab lunch and go home.”

Damn. It definitely sounded like they were together. Not that Lance dated. But he enjoyed flirting. He just knew better than to flirt with someone else's man.

“You guys should eat next door. Best place in town. Tell them Lance sent you, they'll give you a discount.” Lance smiled brightly despite the unease from being stared down.

“Thanks,” the older man said at the same time the younger one repeated Lance’s name incredulously.

Something seemed weirdly familiar about them.

“Uh, yeah, no problem.” He waved it off. “And, uh, if you want, we can always order whatever book you're looking for.”

The leather clad dude finally looked at his friend before snapping his eyes back to Lance. 

“No. That's ok.”

“Oh, um, alright. Well, you guys have a good day, enjoy lunch.”

“Thanks, we will,” the model said, smiling as he walked towards his must be boyfriend, the two pushing through the front door. The younger one glanced back at the door once before animatedly launching into a conversation with the other until Lance could no longer see them.

. . .

“Welcome to Altea Books, how can I-” Lance greeted before his eyes landed on the bad boy stereotype from several days before. “Oh, hi again…”

Ok, so maybe he had spent the better part of a couple days thinking about the hot couple.

“Hey.” He kind of just looked at Lance, waiting.

“Um… can I help you find something?”

He seemed to consider Lance before looking around the store and then back to Lance.

“Yes… sci-fi.”

“Ah, a man after my own heart.” Lance parroted Coran’s words from so very long ago. He realized what he had said and wasn't sure who was redder, him or the hot guy. “Uhhh, so like, sci-fi in general or something specific?”

Lance, who lets you speak, come on.

“Just point me to the sci-fi section and I'll figure it out.”

“Yeah, ok.”

Lance led him through the stacks, he could feel the other’s eyes boring holes into his back the whole way.

“Here you go.” He gestured to the designated area, far larger than most of their sections. “Wraps around to the other row too. If something's out of reach, or you have any questions, let me know.”

“Thanks.”

Lance fled back to the front, the guy’s looks starting to freak him out a little. Thirty minutes later and he hadn't seen or heard the guy once. It was slow, he didn't need to stick near the register…

“Hey, I brought you a lemonade, on the house…”

The guy was sat cross legged on the floor, books fanned out around him. His leather jacket had been discarded and he suddenly seemed so young to Lance. It was hard to remember how tough he had seemed earlier, how he had an air about him that just made Lance want to pick at him.

“Oh… thanks…” Lance handed him the drink, picking up the closest book. “Lance, right?”

“Yeah… I guess I didn't catch your name the other day…”

“Keith.”

“Nice to meet you Keith. Into…” he looked at the cover of the book. “alien conspiracies?”

“Don't say anything.”

“I wasn't going to!” Lance put up his hands defensively. “We sell a lot stranger things to people you wouldn't expect. Besides, I ordered these.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, one of my best friends is kind of an alien nut too. No offense.”

The tiniest smile crossed Keith’s lips and Lance felt like the sun was shining through the walls. Why had he wanted to fight this guy earlier?

“None taken.”

He felt the blush spread from head to toe.

“Uuuhhh… so what book were you looking for the other day?”

“Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep.”

“Oh, no way! That's one of my favorite books.”

“Really?” Keith looked like he wasn't sure he quite believed him.

“Yeah, I have like four copies upstairs. I used to collect weird editions of it for the cover art.”

“That's… actually really cool.”

“In fact, I think I might be why we never have extra copies down here.”

Keith laughed and Lance wondered how he could have ever been nervous of him.

“Well, I guess I'll have to get you to order one then.”

Lance pulled out his phone and checked the time.

“Hold on a second. Stay right here.”

He jogged to the front door, locking the bolt and turning off their sign, before running back past a bewildered Keith, yelling for him to follow him up the back stairs. He led him into the apartment, disappearing into his room and reappearing a few minutes later slightly out of breath but smiling widely.

“Here!”

Keith took the beat up old copy of the book. He seemed confused when he looked back up at Lance.

“You're selling me your own book?”

“No, just think of it as borrowing. You live around here right?”

“Yeah… but you don't know me…”

“That was given to me by someone who was a stranger at the time, and it saved my life… I'm just paying it forward, I guess.”

“Ok… I promise I'll bring it back…”

Lance smiled, clapping a hand on Keith's shoulder.

“I trust you, actually.” He just felt like this guy was ok for some reason.

They walked back through the apartment, now at a much slower pace. Lance could see Keith taking in everything around him. The odd decor and books on every surface, the family photos on the walls. He stopped to look at one of Lance, Coran and Allura from just before he started college. They all looked so much younger.

“You're adopted.” It wasn't a question, but Lance didn't really expect it to be. He and Allura didn't look anything like each other or Coran. He laughed.

“Sort of.”

Keith just hummed, continuing to walk back towards the stairs. They went back to where Keith's conspiracy books were scattered. Keith collected them all, putting back ones he didn't want and carrying the others to the register, Lance following a pace behind.

Keith payed for his haul. A silence had fallen between them, somewhere in the middle of comfortable and awkward. Lance walked Keith to the front door, unlocking it and letting him out, the only thing keeping him from flirting was the memory of the Adonis Keith had brought in the other day. Lance wasn't a home wrecker, but even if he was, there was no measuring up to that beautiful and kind Captain America-esque man, so why try.

Keith turned and Lance could have sworn he was about to say something before he just awkwardly waved and walked over to a red motorcycle, stowing his books and taking off into the night.

Fuck.

. . .

Two days later and Keith was back, hand in hand with his boyfriend right up until they pushed through the door. They let go of each other, Keith’s boyfriend heading for the stacks. Keith made a straight line towards Lance. Shit, he was behind the counter, there was nowhere to run. Lance was only sweating a little when Keith smiled and plopped down his beat up paperback on the counter.

“Thanks for letting me borrow it.”

“Oh… yeah. You already finished it?”

“Yeah, I kind of leave my body when I'm reading. Shiro says it's like living with a pod person.”

Shiro. The Adonis, he guessed. 

“Oh,” he laughed. “I think I'm the exact opposite. I'm really distractible and Allura is always yelling at me for talking to the book like people do movies. You know, ‘don't go into that room’ and all that.”

“Is Allura your girlfriend?”

Lance barked a loud laugh, causing an elderly couple by the cookbooks to look at them.

“No. No one is good enough for that goddess, but she's basically my sister.”

Keith seemed to brighten a little bit at that.

“The girl in the pictures upstairs?”

“That's her. Too beautiful to be from this world, am I right?”

Keith smiled. Suddenly Shiro was wrapping around Keith from behind, placing a couple books on the counter. 

“I'm all done. You getting anything,” he asked Keith.

“Not today. What'd you get?”

Lance was already starting to pull the books towards him to ring up, if for no other reason than to give him a distraction from the weird feelings churning in his gut watching the two men in front of him be so sweet to one another. He tried not to think about Lotor.

“Jurassic Park?! No way! I love this book!”

“Ugh, why are you doing this to me,” Keith murmured, rolling his eyes.

Shiro smirked at his boyfriend before nudging him out of the way so he could eventually pay.

“Because, you're going to read the book if I have to endure the movie.”

Lance laughed but Keith looked like a petulant child.

“The movie is perfect, I don't need the book.”

“Oh boy, I'm going to have to call bs on that,” Lance chuckled. “I love the movie, don't get me wrong, but the book is so much better.”

“See, Keith?” Shiro looked far too smug. This was clearly a long running disagreement.

“I mean, come on, the water fall scene-”

“Yes! Thank you!”

“Just amazing, honestly!”

“Finally, someone gets me-”

“Yeah, yeah, alright,” Keith interrupted. “I can't believe I'm getting ganged up on like this.”

“Sorry, babe, book is better.”

“He's right.” Lance barely kept from laughing when Keith fixed him with a glare.

“Whatever. I'll read it, but I'm making you both watch the movie with me.”

“Keith, I've watched the movie with you before,” Shiro teased.

“Yeah, well you're watching it again!”

It took Lance a second for his brain to start working again after Keith saying both.

“Wait… both?”

“Yeah, you're just as bad as he is.” Keith nodded towards Shiro. “Jurassic Park is a classic.”

“So, this Saturday,” Shiro asked Keith, who nodded before they both looked to Lance.

“Oh. Uh… ye-yeah?” No. Shit. He should have said he had to work.

“Ok, cool, we live just down the street, but we can pick you up,” Shiro said.

“No, it's ok, I can walk, really I don't want you to go out of your way.”

“It's no trouble,” Shiro assured with a bright smile.

“Yeah. Be ready by eight.”

“Oh ok.” 

This was really happening. He was going to be alone with two strangers. Two very hot strangers.

Shit.

Oh god, what was he going to wear?

Lance, chill, this is not a date. Obviously. There's two of them and they're dating each other. It doesn't matter what you wear.

LANCE:  
Allura I need you to go shopping with me before Saturday 

. . .

“Coraaaannn?”

“In here, Lance!”

Lance came stomping into the living room and flopped onto the couch, burying his face in Coran’s side.

“Oh dear, what's wrong,” Coran teased, knowing dramatics only came with the lighter issues.

“Boys,” Lance whined.

“In general or one in specific?”

“Both. Well. Two in specific.” He rolled over to look up at Coran, lip as far out as he could push it.

“Two?! My goodness!”

“They're dating each other!”

“How dare they!”

Lance laughed at Coran’s ridiculous fake reactions.

“They're so good looking and nice and they invited me over to watch a movie and I'm pretty sure I'm going to die.”

“I doubt you'll die.”

“You didn't see these guys.”

“It'll be good for you.” Coran swept Lance bangs from his forehead. “Pidge and Hunk are amazing and part of the family, but you could use some more friends. Get out of the house a bit more.”

“Yeah…”

Lance rolled to his side facing out towards the rest of the room. Coran patted his shoulder.

“What's really wrong?”

“Nothing.”

“Lance.”

“I just… I just want what they have…”

“And why can't you have what they have?”

Lance huffed a hollow laugh as he sat up, putting his head in his hands.

“I don't know how.” Coran didn't respond in that irritating way he sometimes did when he wanted Lance to spill his heart. “I'm broken goods and I don't think I'm capable of loving or being loved.” He peeked at Coran, hoping he understood he wasn't talking about family.

“Lance you have more love in your heart than anyone I've ever met.”

“I guess.”

“Well, I know.”

“I just… I'm scared. I'm scared to love someone. Even more scared for them to love me.”

He had thought he'd been in love once. Thought he was loved back.

“That was not love, Lance…” Coran wrapped an arm around his shaking shoulders. How did he always know what he was thinking? “That was abuse.”

Lance flinched. It had been a very long time since they'd talked about any of it. Lance really hadn't said much then either, but Coran and the others could fill in the blanks.

“You deserve everything this world has to offer, if you want it. Love included.”

“I just watch them, and they make it look so damn easy. How? How do you love someone so easy? I can't even get past casual flirting without feeling like I'm going to puke.”

“The things you've been through do not make you unloveable, Lance.”

Five years. Five years of building back a semblance of a person. Five years and Lotor was still fucking up his life. 

“So, it's everything else then.” He had tried for humor, but the grim look on Coran’s face spoke volumes. “Ok, I get it… I get it.”

Coran hugged him. They made hot cocoa despite the summer heat, before Lance retired to his room. He stared at the ceiling for hours, just trying to empty his head.

. . .

“You look wonderful, stop freaking out,” Allura practically sang from where she lounged on his bed amid a mountain of shopping bags and discarded outfits.

“Ugh! Allura, I feel stupid!”

He straightened the collar of his denim button up before rolling and rerolling his sleeves. He made sure there was no lint on his black jeans. Ran his fingers through his hair.

“Lance! You look good!”

“I know I look good! I feel like an idiot for caring that I look good!”

“Why are we yelling?!”

Lance flopped back onto his bed, plastic bags crinkling under his weight.

“Allura, why are you still single? Don't you get lonely?”

“I have more important things to worry about.”

“You never wanted a significant other?”

“Not really. I have you and Coran, the bookstore, my mice. Never really felt like I needed more. Why?”

“I feel stupid.”

“Yeah, well pull it together, your hot date-”

“It's not a date-”

“- is going to be here in five minutes.”

“WHAT?!”

Lance jumped up and started scrambling, despite already being dressed.

“Shit. Ok. I look good?”

“Yes.”

“Should I put on more deodorant?”

“Didn't you just put on some?”

“I mean, more probably wouldn't hurt right?”

Allura rolled her eyes and pulled him from his room and down the back stairs into the shop.

. . .

He wasn't pacing. He wasn't! Allura, shut up, he is not pacing.

He was pacing. 

A really nice black pickup pulled up in front of the shop. Lance would argue that he didn't squeak and press up against the glass to see if it was his ride.

Shiro stepped out, every bit as breathtaking as he had been the first time Lance saw him. A Greek god barely contained in a black button up and blue jeans. Lance felt blessed. Shiro jogged up to the door letting himself in only to stop abruptly when faced with two gaping employees. He recovered quickly with a dazzling smile, and why did Lance think this was a good idea, his heart was going to give out by the end of the night.

“Hey, sorry I'm running a little late, Keith cleaned the apartment and I couldn't find anything.” He laughed. “You ready?”

After pulling his soul back into his body, Lance managed to move towards Shiro and the door. “Yeah, let's go.”

“Have fun, Lance!” Allura called, winking at him when he turned.

Lance blushed the whole way to the truck. He climbed in and buckled as Shiro started it. Lance was pretty sure he could hear 90’s R&B coming from the speakers, but it was so soft, he couldn't pinpoint the song.

“Sorry, it's just me picking you up.” Shiro peeked at him from the corner of his eye while he pulled away from the curb. “Keith was going to come with, but he decided to make dinner.”

“He doesn't really seem like the cooking and cleaning type,” Lance laughed.

“Oh yeah, try to help and he just shoos you away.”

“Huh.” Lance chuckled shaking his head. “Well, that's ok, I like you too.”

Oh my god. Lance paled. Did he really just say that? Shiro must not have realized the connotation of that statement, because he just laughed.

“Good, I like you too. I hope you like spaghetti.”

“Yeah, who doesn't? It's one of the few things I know how to make.”

One of his foster mom's had insisted that all the kids could make at least one meal, she wanted them to be self reliant. Spaghetti had been the go to.

“Yeah, it's kind of Keith’s go to when he's stressed.”

“Why is he stressed,” Lance laughed bewildered. Not that he wasn't stressed about the whole thing either, but he was the odd man out here, stepping into someone else’s territory. Shiro chuckled and fixed Lance with a look like he was sharing a secret he wasn't supposed to be.

“That's a good question. Feel free to ask him when we get upstairs.”

They had pulled up to an apartment complex Lance had never really paid much attention to. It was way out of his price range and he'd never known anyone that lived there before. 

The smell of Italian food hit them like a wall when they walked in, putting Lance at ease, it smelled just like his. Lance followed Shiro’s lead and toed off his shoes. The apartment was nice, simple but homey with shades of grey from floor to ceiling. Lance smiled to himself at how clean it was. It was weird to think someone had gone to the trouble to cook and clean just because he was coming over.

Lance had followed Shiro into the sleek modern kitchen and watched as he pressed up behind a frantically stirring Keith.

“No. Uh uh, get out of here before you somehow burn something. Besides you're supposed to be picking up Lance.”

“He's already here, I-”

“What?!” Keith whipped around in his boyfriend’s arms and blanched at the sight of Lance waving from the entrance. “Shiro! Come on, I'm not even dressed yet.”

“You're clearly wearing clothes-”

Keith pulled out of Shiro’s arms and started to head for the other room.

“Don't burn anything or I swear to god-”

“Go get dressed.”

Keith gave one last unsure look between Shiro, Lance and the pot on the stove. Lance sat on a stool at the island and watched Shiro poke at the noodles a bit.

“These look done right?” Shiro lifted a clump of noodles up for Lance to see. Lance laughed, but he came over to stand with Shiro, taking the spoon.

“Yeah, these seem good, but…” he grabbed a noodle and flung it against the wall, watching it stick. “Gotta be sure.” He laughed and the look Shiro gave him did not go unnoticed. He looked down at Lance with such warmth and a playful smile tugged at his mouth.

“I'm gone five seconds and you've flung food in my spotless kitchen.”

Lance whipped around to look at Keith, not exactly sure what to feel guilty about, but Shiro chuckled, placing a hand on Lance’s shoulder. Suddenly he was feeling brave, so he peeled the noodle off the wall, draping it into his mouth.

“Just checking,” he said as he winked, and wow was Keith red and suddenly looking everywhere else.

“Yeah, ok, let's just eat.”

They made plates and Lance followed the couple into the living room where they plopped down, Keith on the floor in front of the coffee table, and Shiro on the end of the couch, one leg folded underneath him. Lance sat crossed legged in the big armchair behind Keith. Shiro grabbed a remote and the Jurassic Park DVD menu filled the screen.

“You do know I've seen this before right?” Lance managed around a mouthful of spaghetti. Man, he needed to ask Keith what he put in this, because it was a damn replica of his.

“We've all seen it,” Shiro deadpanned, giving Keith a meaningful look.

“Shut up, I don't want to hear it.”

“Keith here has seen this movie roughly a thousand times, and that's not hyperbole.”

“Shiroooo,” Keith groaned.

“Why have you seen it that many times?! I mean it's a classic, but holy crow!”

“Look, it was my go to movie when I was like five.” He sighed, tipping his head back. “You know how kids get stuck on a movie and they'll watch it every single day for awhile? Well, this was mine. I watched it every day at least once for like two years, to the point where I couldn't get anyone to watch it with me any more.”

“Wow. I think mine was Newsies…”

“Really?” Keith looked a little relieved.

“You guys are weird,” Shiro teased.

“Hey, its normal,” Lance laughed. “I mean, I will always be more of a book junkie, but movies are a pop culture staple.”

“I blame Spielberg for Keith’s obsession with film.”

“You're into film?”

“Yeah…” Keith looked down into his bowl, a shy smile gracing his lips. “It's what I wanted to do when I was a kid. Make movies...”

“That's cool. Most kids want to be in the movies, not making them. I met a kid once that wanted to make movies.”

“Oh yeah?” Keith fixed him with a curious look, and maybe Lance wasn't good at reading him yet, but there seemed to be a mischievous glint to it, tinged with hope.

“Mmhmm,” Lance hummed around a mouthful. Keith seemed to be waiting for more, but Shiro pressed play and Keith reluctantly turned around.

“Ok, you book snobs better be nice…”

. . .

Keith talked through most of the movie.

For someone that claimed to be obsessed with film, he interrupted the movie a lot to add his thoughts on the matter. Lance would be irritated if it wasn't so funny and honestly, kind of endearing. Everything from praises and “wait wait watch this part, so good” to call outs on the technical crew and analysis on the acting and editing choices, but mostly it was like watching an episode of Mystery Science Theater. It was so comfortable doing this. He hadn't expected it to be, but it felt like they'd been doing this for years.

“Shiro, you're totally an Allan Grant,” Lance mused in the middle of one of Keith’s spiels.

“Oh yeah? How so?” Shiro chuckled from his spot on the couch, tearing his gaze away from the screen to meet Lance’s eyes.

“Smart, cool and collected, probably great under pressure, a big ole softy no matter how intense you seem.”

“He's got you there, Shiro.”

“That's you.” Lance pointed to Malcolm as he shamelessly hit on Ellie, nodding in Keith's direction.

“What's that supposed to mean?”

“Too cool for school, go in guns a blazing without a plan, the bad boy look.”

“Wow Keith, he nailed it,” Shiro teased.

Keith gave him a squinty sort of look before immediately jumping into another bout of commentary. Nearly an hour later and Lance found himself in the edge of his seat, despite knowing exactly how this movie ends, and suddenly Keith is leaning back against his knees, sending heat straight from his toes to his face.

“That's you,” he whispered up at Lance as the T-Rex systematically fucks shit up on screen.

Lance burst out laughing, causing Shiro to jump, but he couldn't help but nearly double over into Keith's space as he laughed harder than he could remember. Keith caught his eye while he was bent down, a smile breaking the occasionally broody face, his eyes practically sparkling in the light from the tv. They continued on, and the credits eventually rolled. It would be time for Lance to leave.

“So, same time tomorrow for the sequel,” Shiro asked, stretching damn near erotically as he got up off the couch.

“Oh uh-”

“Don't tell me you don't like the sequel,” Keith interrupted before Lance could politely decline.

“The second one is alright-”

“Oh my god, if you tell me you like the third one better than the second one, that's it, I'm cancelling our friendship.”

Lance blanched. 

“We’re… friends?”

“”Uh… I mean… are we not,” Keith stammered looking to Shiro for help.

“No, that's not- I'm just- uhh… I'm just not used to making friends so easily…” Lance could feel anxious sweat prickling at his neck. How had he already fucked this up? “And also, the third one is better than the second.”

“What? No way!”

And then Keith was off, explaining how he was wrong. Only conceding when they both agreed that Jurassic World was better than both. Shiro agreed that Chris Pratt was A+ and they made plans to work their way through the next several films before Lance started walking home. It had taken some convincing for them to let him walk, but he needed the fresh air.

It wasn't too late yet, and even though he knew he would see him in a few minutes, Lance couldn't help but dial Coran’s number.

“Oh dear, are you staying the night already? I'm not here to judge but that's a bit quick if you ask-”

“What? No. Coran. I'm not staying the night,” Lance laughed.

“Well, good. You know what they say about fools rushing in and all.”

“Yeah, I'll keep that in mind.”

“Well, did you need a ride, or-”

“No… no. I just… needed to call you.”

“Everything alright?”

“I'm freaking out a little,” he laughed. “These guys… I just… they make me wish I knew how to do this… but, I'm so scared.”

“You have every right to be, you've been through a lot. Your fears are valid, but these men are not Lotor…”

“Yeah…”

“Lance, you can allow yourself to be happy. It doesn't make your past any less real or valid, but you are allowed to move on.”

“I know. I just don't think I can…”

“You like these boys?”

“Yes…”

“Do you want to try and build something, even just a friendship with them?”

“Yeah, of course.”

“Then try not to hold what Lotor did against them, and don't look at yourself the way Lotor used to look at you. You are so much more and so much better than that.”

There were several beats of silence that hung between them. Lance was overwhelmed. He knew what Coran was saying was right, but it was so damned hard to believe it sometimes. He felt so conflicted, he wanted to try, but he couldn't picture it. Couldn't see himself surrendering to those feelings. And if he did, he would never be good enough for Shiro and Keith. Never in a million years. But maybe he could ease into that mindset with no actual worries or fallout, because it's not like Keith and Shiro would be trying to date him anyway.

“So, you're not at all freaked out that I'm trying to date two boys at once?”

Coran laughed and unlocked the front door as he stepped up to it.

. . .

“Why do you look like you're floating on cloud nine,” Pidge grumped from the register.

“I heard from Allura that he had a hot date last night,” Hunk chimed in from the table he sat sprawled at. “Two guys.” He held up two fingers, making a face at her.

“Ew.”

“Wow, rude, and also, Hunk, stop gossiping with Allura behind my back!”

“What? She has the juiciest stuff. You guys never have anything good.”

“So are you dating these guys or what, not that I care.”

“No! It wasn't a date!”

“Allura said you bought new clothes.”

“Oh my god, I'm gonna kill her.” Lance was going to get whiplash from bouncing between his two best friends.

“Sounds like a date,” Pidge teased.

“Yeah, well it wasn't. They're dating each other anyway.”

“So, they didn't make you dinner and watch a movie with you? Because that sounds an awful lot like a date.”

“Hunk! Ok! So yes, they did do that, and yes they're very hot, and yes I did lay awake all night thinking about being sandwiched between them-”

“Ew, Lance! Stop,” Pidge begged.

“-but, I am not ready for that yet! And also, they are like perfect for each other and I would just be a weird third wheel.”

“Polyamorous relationships are more common than you think,” Pidge said. “Just because they're perfect for each other doesn't mean you aren't perfect for them.”

Warmth cascaded through his body, pooling in his eyes. He felt the need to hug Pidge despite knowing she'd probably shove him off.

“Yeah, what Pidge said, and also, you haven't dated anyone in years. Nyma was the last person you even tried to date… if you could really call it that… I know you're still healing, but… maybe this would be good for you?”

“Yeah? And how am I supposed to explain why I flinch when someone gets too close? How I react abruptly and negatively to intimacy, because that's exactly why Nyma dumped me.”

He hadn't meant for this to turn into a real argument, for him to get emotional in the middle of the store during open hours. Hell, he wouldn't be shocked if there were customers listening to their every word.

“And bonus, I don't get to disappoint and be rejected by just one person, but two!”

Hunk was suddenly next to him, wrapping him in a hug. Patted his back as he tried to get his breathing back to normal.

“All we're saying, is that you deserve something like this. But only if it's what you want, and if you aren't ready, no one wants you pushing yourself. No one gets to decide when you're ready but you.”

Lance nodded and allowed himself to be manhandled into a chair by Hunk. He sipped the lemonade given to him, and less than an hour later they were back to laughing and making fun of the newest batch of romance novels.

. . .

“Oh! I was just about to come pick you up.”

Lance found himself staring up at Keith as he climbed the stairs to their apartment.

“Yeah, I decided to walk. The store is still open and I honestly didn't trust my best friends not to embarrass me,” Lance laughed as he met Keith on the landing. “I brought wine since you fed me last time. Least I could do according to Hunk.”

Keith's eyebrows came together before he smirked.

“That's actually what Shiro was supposed to be doing right now. Thanks. Come on, we’ll open this while we wait for him.”

The apartment was just as tidy as last night, but spaghetti had been replaced with some sort of baked pasta dish. Keith led them into the kitchen, holding his hand out for the wine, pouring two rather large glasses and handing one to Lance.

“The spaghetti was really good last night by the way. Tasted just like the kind I make.”

“Oh really?” Keith's eyes shifted away from him.

“Shiro said you made it because you were stressed.” Wow Lance, really? Keith's glare snapped back to him.

“Don't listen to Shiro, he's actually the troublemaker between the two of us.”

“Oh… ok.”

“Don't tell him my secret,” Shiro called from the other room before he rounded the corner with bags in each hand. He placed the heavy glass bottles on the counter before coming over to kiss Keith hello.

“I didn't get your text until I had already bought the wine, but more can't hurt right?” He smiled and winked at Lance. “How was your day, babe.”

“Fine. I made mac and cheese.”

“Oh man, I fucking love mac and cheese,” Lance interrupted before blushing badly under both sets of eyes. “Sorry-”

“Oh thank god, I wasn't sure if you still- if you did,” Keith sighed, leaning into Shiro.

“It's one of my favorites.” He smiled brightly. “Has been since I was a kid.”

. . .

The sequel was just as silly as he remembered it.

Dinner was amazing and the wine was rich, and Lance was so comfortable on the couch, despite two fully grown men sharing it with him. He laughed loudly at Keith's commentary and even louder at Shiro’s amused reactions to it.

The closeness snuck up on him. He was halfway to leaning completely into Shiro, and his thigh was pressed up against Keith's. The two kept dipping into his personal space to whisper something to him or the other. He could feel the apprehension itching under his skin and bolted up off the couch.

“Woah, you ok,” Shiro asked, concern etched into his striking face.

“Yes! Yeah! Uh, bathroom!”

“Oh. Down the hall and to the right.”

Lance practically sprinted to the room.

Fuck.

Fuck fuck fuck.

He couldn't do this. He was so close but he couldn't do this. Should he leave? Maybe he could just sit on the big chair instead. No, that would be really obvious. Fuck.

He splashed water on his face. Trying to fight back the rosiness in his cheeks and across his chest from the wine. He would just tell them he wasn't feeling well and get the hell out of dodge. He opened the door and noticed that the movie had been paused and a small light had been turned on in the living room. He noticed for the first time the photos on the wall. Photos of Shiro and Keith through the years.

He was drawn first to a rather large picture of Shiro in some sort of military uniform, hair all black and not a single scar in sight. He looked like an entirely different person. There was one of Keith that had clearly been taken without his knowledge as he drove in golden light. A handful of selfies and candids and pictures taken in front of landmarks or scenery. 

One beaten up 4x6 with a fuzzy crease across a corner caught his eye. It was clearly the oldest, Lance could tell from here just how much smaller both boys were, Keith not quite coming up to Shiro’s shoulder. He couldn't help but smile, getting a glimpse at their childhood, maybe Keith would have braces or Shiro would have an embarrassing shirt on… but when Lance stepped up to it, the blood in his veins froze. Looking back at him through time were two very familiar faces.

A tall and handsome boy that he remembered being so kind, helping the other kids with homework and coaxing Lance to play soccer. A young, grumpy looking boy that was too easy to push his buttons and watched weird movies but was hilarious and always had the best commentary… Literally nothing had changed but their ages.

Lance was having a crisis as he looked into the faces of his former foster siblings.

He hadn't remembered them, hadn't recognized them. Did they know? Did they know who he was? Did they even remember him? It had been over a decade ago and they had only lived together for a handful of weeks. Lance only now was registering the background of the picture… a scrawny tan boy made a face, blurred and leaning just barely into frame several feet behind the two boys. He realized he was touching the glass next to his face when a shadow crossed the wall.

“You still make Lindsay’s spaghetti?”

Keith's voice broke his haze. This didn't feel real. 

“Yeah… I… I had forgotten her name actually.”

Several minutes of silence passed as Lance tried to find his way back to his body. Shiro and Keith just watching him.

“I uh, didn't stay there for long after… they moved us all…”

“I didn't know if you-...” Keith started.

“We weren't sure how to bring it up,” Shiro said.

“I didn't… I don't really talk about it?” Lance cleared his throat. “That was a different person honestly.”

“You seem the exact same,” Keith said, eyes boring holes into him. “You're- you- you're just the same.”

Lance laughed at that. He couldn't stop laughing even though none of this was funny.

“I know this is kind of a lot to spring on you, are you alright,” Shiro asked. “We recognized you when we came in the other day, but we weren't entirely sure.”

Lance laughed even harder, wiping stray tears from the corners of his eyes.

“I didn't recognize you at all,” he barely breathed out. “I mean, it was so long ago and for such a short time, and all the things that have happened since-” Lance trailed off, finally starting to sober.

“Well the foster system seemed to finally get it right for you-”

“What?! No- I ran away when I was-” why was Lance telling them this? “The one and only good house I was in was the one with you, but they carted us all off to different homes after you two left.”

Keith looked like he was going to be sick.

“Keith, you were a child, stop beating yourself up about it,” Shiro began to console him.

“I'm so sorry, Lance, it- it was my fault. After they kicked Shiro out of the system, I had to go after him. He was the only family I had ever felt like I had. But- but I didn't think they'd take you all out of there… I was just trying to stay with Shiro…”

Lance let that information wash over him.

He couldn't really blame Keith. If he had anyone close to him in the system, whose to say he wouldn't have done the same. Technically he had done exactly what Keith had done, just on his own, with no one to look for on the other side. Had all the kids at his last home been moved to other homes because the foster parents had been deemed unable to care for them? Lance had never given it a thought.

“It's ok… I mean…” he had no words. This part of his life, like so many others had been locked in a chest deep in his soul where he didn't have to acknowledge it any more. What was he even supposed to say to all of this? “I should have known with the weird commentary…”

Keith huffed a small laugh.

“You were Keith’s gay awakening,” Shiro stage whispered.

“Shiro!” Keith turned and punched him in the shoulder.

Ok, Lance was about to tip over into legitimately losing it.

“What, it's true,” Shiro teased, grabbing Keith’s fist. “You were a cute kid, Lance, and incredibly easy to get along with. I didn't think Keith could play nice with anyone but me.”

“Ok, wait!” Lance held up his hand, taking a steadying breath. “That is not how I remember it. I distinctly remember that sullen mullet headed kid being my number one rival.”

“What?! I was not!”

“We wrecked our bikes into that ditch trying to see who would pull away or break first. You punched me for saying Digimon was better than Pokémon that one time! You barely talked to me unless we were watching a movie.”

“Good thing you got better at flirting, huh, babe?” Shiro kissed the side of Keith's very red cheek.

“Ok, shut up, both of you.”

“What.” Lance must have fallen asleep on the couch because this was some wild ass dream he was having.

“Jesus, Shiro,” Keith hissed. “Ok, yes, I had a crush on you when I was fourteen.”

“No way.” Lance started to smirk.

“Fuck both of you,” Keith said as he turned to go into the kitchen.

“I mean maybe later,” Lance crooned, pasting a cheesy grin on his face. Both other men stopped in their tracks. “I was just joking,” Lance awkwardly laughed. “Obviously you guys are a couple, and I'm not trying to come between you.” Oh god Lance, don't think about that… “I uhh haha, actually I'm gonna head out, but uhh-”

Keith’s eyebrows pulled together. If Lance didn't know any better he'd say it was a pout.

“We didn't finish the movie though.”

“It's pretty late, you're more than welcome to sleep here, Lance,” Shiro added.

They seemed to box him in. Matching looks of concern and god, he wanted to believe longing. A strong hand on his bicep, and the steely eyes that should have been comforting but fuck if he didn't see dark eyes and sharp features, long white blond hair and a bruising grip. The wine was a terrible idea. God, what even emotion was he feeling right now. Panic? Panic.

“I appreciate that… but I think I need a rain check…”

He probably shouldn't make promises he wasn't planning on keeping.

“Yeah, of course, let me grab some shoes and Keith and I can take you home.”

“No, it's cool, it takes me like ten minutes to walk, it's no big deal.”

“Lance it's really not-” Keith started.

“Rain check…. I'll be ok….”

He let himself out the door before either of them could attempt to talk him out of it. The walk home was a daze and before he knew it he was climbing up the stairs to the apartment.

. . .

“I don't think I've woken up to this since you were a boy,” Coran chimed far too brightly for this early in the morning.

The lamp on the side of Coran’s bed clicked on and Lance shielded his eyes from where he was curled up beside him. Coran softly brushed his hair back with his hand until Lance lowered his arm.

“Any reason you've crawled into my bed?”

“They knew me…” Coran stopped his petting to listen. “They were my foster siblings at one point...”

“Is that a bad thing?”

“I don't… I don't know.”

“Well, you don't have to go through the awkward explanation of your childhood, which I know you hate and actively avoid.”

“Yeah.”

“Were they good foster siblings?”

“Yeah, actually. Like the only two I ever missed after they were gone.”

“And now you have them back, very serendipitous.” Coran arched an eyebrow at Lance. He wondered which of them had learned it from the other.

“Since when do you believe in serendipity,” Lance teased. Coran was basically all science, all the time, his tall tales excluded.

“Since a gangly teenager showed up on my doorstep and fell asleep in my shop.”

Lance felt his heart drop into his stomach. Coran pulled him into a semblance of a hug. Lance would never get used to how surprisingly strong the man was. He let Coran hold him for awhile, just like when he would slip in after a particularly bad nightmare, or after some stranger had called him names at a party he had crashed. He felt safe here.

“You keep coming up with reasons not to let these two into your life…”

“Yeah, well it's hard,” he pouted.

“Life is hard, my boy, and I know I don't have to tell you that. It's hard, and when it gives way to soft kindness, you ought to let it.”

“You should quit your day job and write hallmark cards.” Lance laughed as he was pulled into a crushing side hug.

“Deflect all you want, as long as you take it to heart.”

. . .

Lance knocked three times. Two minutes later and the door swung in.

“Lance?”

Keith looked like he'd been cooking or cleaning, his hair was tied back and there was a smear of something across one cheek to match the ones on his loose tank top. Lance was fucking weak. What were words again?

“Uhhh, hey, I'm not interrupting anything am I?”

“No, come in…” Keith's face was caught somewhere between confused and concerned.

“I just wanted to come by and apologize for last night-”

“You don't need to apologize.”

“I just… needed a minute…”

“I should have said something as soon as I saw you. It was just so unexpected and Shiro hadn't reacted, so I thought I was seeing things.”

“You really recognized me right away?”

“Yes.”

“Oh.”

There eyes caught each other every few seconds when they were brave enough to look in the other’s direction.

“I missed you guys when you left…”

“Yeah… I actually asked Shiro once if we could go back and see you…”

“Really?!” He would have never thought he'd make an impact on either one of them.

“You were my first crush.” Keith shrugged, avoiding eye contact.

“What about Shiro,” Lance asked incredulously.

“Shiro was my best friend and the only one that had ever felt like family, but that wasn't what we were yet… I don't think I realized my feelings for him until just before he left for Project Kerberos.”

“Is that how he…” Lance gestured vaguely to his own arm.

“Yeah. Doesn't talk about it. I don't even really know what happened, just that now the government pays for most of our shit.”

“Huh.” Lance had a million and one questions about what they had done in the last 13 years, but he was still kind of stuck on Keith ever having had a crush on him.

He remembered the grumpy, antisocial weirdo that was always within eyesight of the oldest boy in the house. He'd seemed like such a troublemaker and Lance lived to push his buttons. They'd gotten in trouble on many occasions in their short stay together for fighting in some form or fashion. Lance had loved every second of it.

“I think Shiro was my first gay crush.”

A cup clattered in the sink where Keith had started to straighten up the kitchen.

“Sorry. Is that awkward? Like, I know he's your boyfriend and you literally just told me you had a thing for me and here I am just-” Lance gestured wildly, fully aware of his nervous rambling as Keith stared him down.

“No- I just- uh- I just didn't know you were- that you weren't straight…”

“Oh,” Lance laughed. “Yeah, pan… I think the first time anyone called me queer was after talking about you and Shiro. Weird, I'd kind of forgotten about that. But, yeah, I've known since I was a teenager…”

“Babe?”

Lance and Keith both whipped around in the direction of Shiro’s voice coming from the front entry way.

“In here with Lance,” Keith called back.

“Oh! Hey, Lance,” Shiro greeted excitedly as he came around the corner, bags in tow.

“Hey. Um, I just came by to-”

“No need, I get it.” Shiro smiled kindly as he set the bags down on the counter. Lance could hear the tell tale sound of a liquor bottle clinking down onto the stone.

“Cool…” He could feel the blush blooming across his skin. “So… you guys wouldn't be up for finishing the sequel, would you?”

. . .

Shiro had picked up whiskey and insisted on making whiskey sours for them. They chatted for a bit in the kitchen, drinking the bitter sweet concoction. Shiro had just slid Lance over his second when Keith announced he was going to shower real quick but they should get the movie set up.

Shiro found their place rather quickly and paused it. Lance had started to walk over to where he could safely watch from the big chair, but piles of laundry filled it. Shiro made no move to take it away, so Lance resigned himself to the end of the couch. Shiro plopped down not even two feet from him.

“So how long have you guys been together?”

“We were a long time coming I think, but we actually made it official about five years ago.”

“Cool…”

“What about you, Lance? Are you seeing anyone?”

Lance took note of the way Shiro was suddenly very interested in his drink.

“No… I'm not really good at dating…”

Shiro looked at him quizzically.

“Because you don't enjoy it? Because I can't imagine that you wouldn't make a great boyfriend.”

A hollow laugh bubbled out of him. “I'm sure my ex would have a PowerPoint of disagreements for that.”

“Their loss.” Shiro’s warm and sincere smile cut any remark he had been forming.

For lack of something to say in return, Lance finished off his drink and jumped up to make another. He sat down just as the door to the bathroom opened. Suddenly the space between him and Shiro was occupied by a flush, still slightly damp Keith, smelling strongly of eucalyptus. Before he could start to have a crisis, Shiro switched off the light and hit play.

. . .

Maybe the drinks had been too strong, or he hadn't eaten in too long, but Lance was feeling those drinks. Like really feeling them.

He could hear Keith chatting away about the film somewhere sort of above him, and ok, when had he practically laid down with his head resting on Keith and his legs kicked over the armrest? Keith's hand absently carded through his hair. He belatedly remembered to freak out and sat up abruptly. Keith and Shiro swam before him, but he definitely knew they were looking at him with concern.

“Uh… you said you can quote the whole first movie?”

“Yeah?..”

“Show me.” He was grasping for something to distract them from how bad he was about to freak out.

Keith cocked an eyebrow and glanced back at Shiro, but he shrugged and looked directly at Lance for a beat before grabbing his discarded drink.

“Come here.”

Lance moves fractionally closer, still very much on edge. Keith turned on the couch to face him.

“Now, put your hand flat like a hieroglyphic.” Lance holds out his hand, palm down, eyes locked on Keith as he dips his finger into the melted ice of his drink before taking Lance’s hand in his own. “Now, let’s say a drop of water falls on your hand. Which way is the drop going to roll off? Off which, finger or the thumb, do you think?”

Keith waits looking deep into Lance’s glassy eyes.

“Uhh… thumb?...”

Keith smiles at Lance before dropping a bit of water onto the back of his hand and watching as it rolls off the side and around to his palm. Keith laughs and wipes of Lance’s hand gently with his own.

“Aha, ok, now freeze your hand, freeze your hand, don't move, I'm going to do the same thing, start with the same place again. Which way is it going to roll off?”

“Uh, the same way?” Lance is way more aware of the warm hand holding his own than anything Keith is saying. He watches, bewildered as the second droplet rolls back towards him and down his wrist.

“It changed. Why? Because tiny variations, the orientation of hairs on your hand-”

“Holy shit,” Lance breathed.

“-the amount of blood distending your vessels, imperfections in the skin-”

“Imperfections in the skin?!” Lance fixed Keith with a look, causing him to laugh and squeeze his hand a bit tighter.

“Microscopic, microscopic- and never repeat, and vastly affect the outcome. That's what?”

Lance looked up into Keith’s eyes, the knowledge that this was a series of movie lines completely forgotten. He couldn't help the way he glanced at his smirking lips.

“Unpredictability,” Keith breathed as he pushed forward, pressing that smirk to Lance's lips and claiming them.

His mouth pushed back, lips moving in time with Keith’s. They shifted slightly, and Keith's arms bracketed him. Lance saw a sharp jaw and long blonde white hair and realized too late that he was shoving Keith away, a nausea turning his stomach.

“Shit, sorry-” Keith said barely audible over Lance’s, “Sorry, fuck-”

They just stared at each other for a second. Lance realized Shiro was still there too.

“I think we read this wrong, I am so sorry, Lance-”

“No, it's cool, it's fine, sorry I shoved you, ok I gotta go.” Lance booked it out the door before either of them could get in a word. He ran from the apartment complex and down the road and did not stop running until he was locked behind his bedroom door above the bookstore.

. . .

“Shh. Pidge!”

Lance managed to grab her and yank her back into the storage room. He crouched amongst the cocoa and lemonade supplies.

“Lance, what the fuck are you doing.”

Under any other circumstances, he would be amused and pleased that she was also whispering.

“I need you to act like I'm not here.”

“I didn't even know that you were here until you snatched me from the hall,” she whisper shouted. “Why are you hiding?”

“Just, please, if you love me-”

“Some days, I’m not sure.”

“- then you'll do me this solid and just pretend like you never saw me. You don't even know me! Who's Lance?! Never heard of him! Sounds handsome!”

“Ok, shut up, if it gets me out of the storage closet with you, then I'll tell whatever dumb lie you've coped up.”

“I love you, come here you little gremlin and gimme a hug.” Lance tried to fold her into a hug, but they became a tangle of grappling limbs accompanied by whispered threats before Pidge pulled free and huffed out of the closet.

“Altea Books, if you need anything, yell,” Pidge lacklusterly greeted to any newcomers as she stomped back behind the register. Lance could just barely see her from his hiding spot. He could see Keith approaching the counter, Shiro on his heels. He wished he could hear what they were saying but he could see Pidge’s blank expression and Lance thanked all the deities he could think of for Pidge not even once glancing in his direction. A few minutes later and they walked out the front door. Lance waited just a bit longer, just in case before emerging from his hiding spot.

“What’d they say?”

“You're going to ask them.”

“Pidge, are you serious?!” But she didn't respond and continued to count down the register.

Lance dodged Keith a few more times after that. Thank god he knew the bookstore like the back of his hand and could slip into the labyrinth unseen. It was a relief when they closed down and Lance didn't feel like he had constantly look over his shoulder.

. . .

He was sitting on the front step when Lance came down to open the shop the next morning.

He watched him through the glass. Keith looked like he had been sitting there awhile, a crumpled coffee cup next to him, arms folded and leaned against the door frame. Lance really didn't have much of a choice did he?

“You're loitering,” he deadpanned as he unlocked and opened the door, stepping past Keith to place the A-sign out front.

“Lance!” Keith scrambled to get up, following him back into the store. “Lance, I am so sorry for the other night. I- I thought- I wasn't-”

“Ok, I'm going to stop you right there.” Lance held up a hand. “I shouldn't have shoved you-”

“No, I should have asked-”

“-I was putting out vibes, I'm not used to anyone taking my flirting to heart-”

“-I got caught up in feelings that never really went away-”

“Wait what?”

“What to which part?”

“Feelings?”

“Lance, really? Shiro and I have both told you about my massive crush on you when we were kids.”

“Yeah, but that was when we were kids. I thought the other night was just because you'd been drinking.”

“What, no. I only had one drink.”

“But why would you cheat on Shiro-”

“Shiro was right there! And he's just as interested as I am, he just-”

“Wait, Shiro…” Lance gaped, looking like a fish out of water.

“Yes, Shiro…”

“I need to sit down.” Lance fell into the chair closest to him, cradling his head between his knees. He heard a chair scrape across the floor and looked up to see Keith sit down across from him.

“Shiro didn't remember you at first, but he was kind of enamored that first day we came in… I was actually coming over to tell you or him off… both probably, but then I saw it was you and…” Keith shrugged, eyes trained on the front window. “I was really hoping you'd remember us-”

“I remember you, I just didn't recognize you.”

“I'm sorry about last night-”

“Please stop apologizing, makes it feel like kissing me was a mistake…”

“Upsetting you was a mistake, I would kiss you right now, if you let me.”

Lance’s head whipped towards him, a furious blush on his cheeks and eyes wide as they could go.

“Uhhh-”

“But you clearly don't want that, which is fine, so instead, I'd like to apologize one last time for making you uncomfortable and I hope you still come by for the next sequel…”

Lance watched as Keith got up, waved and walked out the front door. He was still in a haze when Pidge showed up, complaining about how he hadn't done anything yet.

. . .

He didn't go over that night.

He didn't go the next night either. He sort of expected Keith to lurk around and catch him sooner or later, but he never came. Lance never stopped being on edge, not even when a full week had gone by and he hadn't seen either of them.

“Welcome to Altea Books, if you need anything just yell,” he called as he heard the front door chime. He tried to bite back the minor irritation since he was five minutes from closing.

“I hear you guys have a pretty good romance section and that exactly what I'm here for.”

Lance spun around to see a smirking Shiro leaned against the counter. Lance couldn't formulate words right now if his life depended on it.

“Hey.” Shiro smiled brightly. “You still haven't come over to finish our marathon. Keith's been moping around the apartment, and I thought I'd come see how you're doing.”

“Uh…” Lance tried to swallow through the tightness in his throat. “I'm… alright.”

“Are you?” It wasn't accusatory, simply curious, maybe a touch of worry hidden in there.

“Yeah,” Lance faked through a smile. “Why wouldn't I be?”

“Keith is brash, and he made you uncomfortable. And we both understand that you're not interested, but if you still want to watch-”

“I'm not uninterested,” Lance blurted before clapping a hand over his mouth.

Shiro’s smile could have outdone the sun in that moment as he leaned a little further across the counter.

“Oh yeah?”

“Uh shit, um…” Lance huffed a heavy sigh, dragging his hand down his face. “I mean look at you guys, you're hot as hell, and I've really enjoyed hanging out and watching movies, and I always really liked being around you when we were kids but I-”

Shiro's smile slowly fell from his face when he realized how distraught Lance was becoming.

“Lance?...”

“I can't! Ok? I can't be with you, because I would just make you miserable!”

“What makes you think that,” Shiro asked so softly it broke Lance’s heart. See? He was already making them unhappy.

“I can't love you, either of you!” The tears streaked down his face, but he didn't really care anymore. “I'm a mess, I'm worthless and-”

Shiro was wrapped around him before he knew it. Lance went ramrod straight, sucking in a desperate breath. The unexpected reaction had Shiro pulling back.

“You're not worthless, Lance, and whoever made you think that you were, is so god damn wrong. If you don't want to be with us, that's ok, we like having you around and we'd like to stay friends, but if the only reason you're saying no is because you don't think you're good enough for us, then you're wrong.”

“I'm not good with intimacy…”

“So?”

Lance looked up through tear clumped lashes, confusion pulling at his brow.

“So, I can't kiss you or hug you or-” he gestured wildly. “I can't.”

“That's not the only kind of intimacy, Lance. We only want what you're comfortable with.”

Lance tried to catch his breath, eyes frantically searching for some hint that Shiro was lying to him.

“I… I like you… both of you, I'm just not sure I can be the kind of boyfriend you deserve.”

“Well, I could have told you we don't deserve you.” Shiro smirked, winking at Lance and startling a choked laugh out of him. “Completely out of our league,” he continued.

“Ok, stop,” Lance laughed wiping his face. “... Keith's at the apartment moping?” Shiro nodded. “Let's see if we can make it worse by making him watch the third movie,” Lance teased.

Shiro gave him his space as he locked up the store, shooting a text to Coran and walking out to Shiro’s truck. He didn't really think this was going to work out, but it was really hard not to hear Coran in the back of his head saying that he deserved love if he wanted it. God, did he want it.

. . .

“Babe?”

Shiro and Lance were met with silence as the entered the dark apartment.

“Did he go to sleep,” Lance whispered.

“No, he's usually up half the night… Keith,” Shiro called again.

They heard a thud and Keith came dragging and stumbling out of the bedroom, a blanket wrapped around him, eyes mostly shut.

“Were you sleeping,” Shiro asked incredulously.

“I just couldn't exist anymore for the day… Lance?”

Keith had stopped halfway down the hall, still very much cast in shadow.

“Hey…”

“Am I still sleeping?” Keith turned back around and then back towards them. “What are you doing here?”

“I was hoping we could watch the next movie…”

Keith finally made his way to the front entry, brow furrowed as he looked straight into Lance’s soul, he was pretty sure, before looking to Shiro.

“Yeah… yeah, let me make some popcorn…”

. . .

“Greatest tragedy of my childhood was finding out that Dr. Grant and Dr. Sattler didn't get married,” Keith murmured next to Lance, passing him the bowl of popcorn. Their fingers brushing sent shockwaves through Lance, and Keith glanced down at his hand before back up at him, a sheepish look on his face.

He had ended up in the middle again. Shiro said it only made sense for sharing popcorn after Lance had tried to sit in the chair. He could feel Shiro shift as he leaned to get a handful of popcorn. Lance had stopped paying attention to the movie, too hyper aware of the boys on either side of him.

“I want this,” he all but whispered. Shiro had the movie paused in an instant. He hadn't expected them to hear, but both sets of eyes were intensely set on him. “I can't give you what you want… at least not yet, but maybe not ever…”

“We want you, not the other stuff,” Shiro breathed, and Keith nodded from his other side.

Lance frowned. He didn't believe them, that was all anyone had ever wanted him for. Sex was the only reason to keep him around. He figured after a week or two of blue balls, they'd drop him, and it would suck, but he'd get over it. He wanted to keep doing this with them.

“We don't want anything that you don't want to give,” Keith said.

“What are you comfortable with? What are no goes,” Shiro asked.

“Umm.” Lance thought for a minute. “Well, this is fine.” He gestured to the small points of contact between him and Shiro. He half expected them to get angry, I mean they were barely touching.

“Ok. Shoulder pats ok?”

Lance laughed. “Yeah, I think so.”

“Are you repulsed by seeing intimate things? Like, does it make you uncomfortable when I kiss Shiro?”

“What? No, I'm not repulsed by any of it, I just can't- no, it's fine, if anything I'm only uncomfortable because I'm jeal-” Lance snapped his mouth shut.

“You're jealous?” Keith smirked.

“Those kisses can be yours any time you want them, Lance,” Shiro said from over his shoulder.

“Ok…”

“Can I hold your hand,” Keith asked.

“Yeah, I guess…”

“No, Lance, it's either ok or it's not, and I want you to tell us,” Shiro said, patting his shoulder a bit. He jumped at the initial contact, but relaxed into the heavy hand left there.

“Just give me your damn hand, Mullet.”

Keith smiled and laced his fingers into Lance’s. It was nice, but awkward. Lance had only really ever held hands with Allura or sometimes Hunk or Pidge, but definitely not anyone he was interested in. He hoped his hand wasn't sweating too much. Keith brushed his thumb across the back his hand, and he eased into it a little.

They watched the rest of the movie like that. Lance melted a little further into Shiro until his arm was around his shoulders. Keith followed suit and leaned into Lance a little bit. He felt a little trapped and overwhelmed, but it was also kind of nice, so he tried not to panic yet.

The movie ended and he wasn't exactly sure how to pull himself free, but Keith was turning towards him, a devilish smile on his face. Lance's eyes widened like a deer in headlights as Keith leaned towards him, only to pass him and lean up to kiss Shiro.

“Oh that's playing fucking dirty, Keith,” Lance grumped as the two made out with him caught between them.

“All yours- mmf- whenever- mm- you want,” he said between kisses.

Lance watched them lazily kiss for a few more minutes before he finally broke.

“Yeah, ok, I'm dying here, just kiss me already,” he let out in one frustrated breath.

Keith pulled away from a smirking Shiro and gave Lance room to breath for a second. Keith came towards him slowly, giving him plenty of opportunity to change his mind, making sure to approach him like a cornered animal.

Surprisingly soft lips met his. Keith kissed him languidly, far more patient and soft than the kisses he had been sharing with Shiro. It was so nice. Lance melted into it, kissing back and sighing into it. He pushed into Keith just a tiny bit more, causing the other to make the tiniest of moans that lit Lance up with fireworks. Keith pressed more of his body against him, nipping and pulling at his bottom lip and suddenly Lance couldn't breath. 

As in he was full blown panicking now. His lips moved on autopilot, but his entire body had frozen up. 

“Keith, hold-” Shiro had started, but Keith had brought up his hand to cup Lance’s face and he couldn't help the involuntary push of his hands against Keith’s chest. Their lips separated with an audible pop.

“I'm sorry-” Lance rushed to say.

“Oh god, no i'm so sorry, Lance, I-

“-too much, I-”

“I came on too strong, I'm sorry.”

“No. No, it was good, I just- I just need a second.”

Silence filled the small space, and it was only after several long minutes of deep heaving breaths that Lance realized one of Shiro’s hands was rubbing up and down his arm. It was surprisingly grounding. Lance turned towards him to see Shiro smiling sweet and encouraging.

“Can I…”

Shiro smiled brighter and nodded. Lance turned back to Keith to make sure he wasn't offended but Keith looked downright hungry. Lance sat a little straighter and turned more towards Shiro, tentatively placing his lips against his. The hand never stopped rubbing circles on his arm, and Shiro sat with his back pressed against the couch, letting Lance take the lead. It was good in a totally different way than kissing Keith had been. Keith felt hot and all consuming like a forest fire, and Shiro made him feel like he was soaring. He pulled back smiling a bit. Keith and Shiro looked like the cat that caught the canary. Lance leaned back over to give Keith a chaste peck.

“I'm so glad we found you,” Keith breathed out, causing Lance to giggle a bit.

“Yeah, well, I gotta go.”

“Jurassic World tomorrow,” Shiro asked.

“I close, so we'll see,” Lance said as he stood on slightly wobbly legs. Shiro and Keith followed him to the door. He patted both of their shoulders before waving and and practically skipping to the stairs. Dark thoughts about how this would never work temporarily pushed from his brain, he hurried home, a permanent flush on his cheeks.

. . .

“Coraaannnn!”

“What's wrong?! What's on fire?!” Coran bolted up in bed.

“They kissed me!” Lance sang as he jumped onto the bed. Coran collapsed back onto the bed with a huff.

“My boy, I am thrilled for you, but my old heart cannot take this.”

“Coran,” Lance laughed. “You're not even that old.”

“Raising two wild children such as Allura and yourself will put some years on a man,” he teased.

“Coran, they kissed me and I kissed them back and it was mostly ok!” Lance bounced the bed a little until Coran chuckled, swatting at him.

“I'm very happy for you, tell me all about it, don't leave out any details.”

. . .

It's over a week before Lance kisses either one of them again. It's been barely there touches watching movies on the couch, the occasional handhold. Shiro doesn't say anything when Lance jumps from unexpected contact, and Keith doesn't look disappointed when he shies away from a touch. They don't ask and they don't push. It wasn't that he didn't expect them to not respect his boundaries, he just didn't think that they'd still want to keep him around after doing so.

Keith and Shiro seem completely content to just have him hanging around in the kitchen with them while Keith cooks and Shiro attempts to help. They shower him in more compliments than he thinks he's ever heard in his life. He playfully antagonizes Keith who fully returns the favor, an unconcealable laugh falling from Shiro’s lips.

It's good. It's great. It doesn't need physical intimacy, but Lance finds he wants it more and more. He's never the one to initiate anything, any time he thinks about it, he seizes up.

“When I came back from Project Kerberos,” Shiro says just barely above a whisper as he and Lance pull out blankets for their nest on the couch. “It was hard for me to let Keith touch me. In any way. We didn't love each other any less, you know?”

Lance watches him wide eyed as they make their way back through the apartment. When they reach the kitchen, Shiro kisses Keith on the cheek before passing through to the living room.

“Hey, come taste this and tell me what's missing.” Keith offers up a spoon covered in sauce, a pout on his lips.

“Mm,” Lance hums, letting it coat his tongue. “More garlic powder… you know it's funny how different you are.”

“How so?” Keith says over his shoulder as he stirs.

“Just… I don't know. More chill? Way more affectionate-”

“Oh yeah, this guy could barely give a hug when he was a kid,” Shiro laughs from the other room. The sound makes Lance's heart do flips.

“Yeah… I wasn't great with physical affection… didn't really know how…” he trails off and Lance let's him, letting the words work through him.

He blurts it out before he even realizes he's opened his mouth. “I want to kiss you.” And so he does. Fairly chaste kisses for both of them, but it's a start.

He's suddenly measuring his life not in years but in their little milestones.

A month and a half in and he manages to not shove Keith off of him while making out. Not even once. They realized if Lance was on top and leading things, he was less likely to get overwhelmed.

Two months and a day in and he introduces them officially to Coran. He fills them with cocoa and stories from his youth, and Lance has never felt so light.

Four and a half months in and he doesn't flinch when Shiro puts his hand on his shoulder or when Keith kisses his cheek out of nowhere.

At six months when he spends the night for the first time, he ends up knocking Keith out of the bed when he shifted his weight. He wants so bad to apologize, to feel like shit for immediately expecting an attack, but he ends up laughing at Keith's face. 

One day shy of eight months and Lance tells them about Lotor. It's a hard night for everyone, Lance stays the night, tucked between them.

A few days later and Shiro gives him the best blow job of his life. Three hours later and Keith tries to top it.

He's eased into cuddling and touching and kissing. Sometimes it's still too much, he still freezes up, still thinks about Lotor, but it's getting better. Easier. Shiro and Keith endlessly patient, and Lance is finally starting to believe them when they say they don't need anything physical from him, it's just icing on the cake, they only want what he wants to give.

Their one year anniversary is spent making spaghetti and watching Jurassic Park. It just seemed right. The scene with Malcolm and Ellie and the drop of water makes Lance reach for Keith’s hand, he settles a little further into Shiro’s side. Keith trails kisses along the fingers twined with his, working his way along Lance’s wrist and arm and up to his collar and neck.

Lance makes soft noises and Keith licks and nips, peppering kisses as he goes. Shiro shifts under him, nose pressed to his hair, planting his own kisses.

“Watching you two together is going to be the death of me,” Shiro breathes behind his ear. He scrapes his nails through Keith's hair and Lance can feel him shudder against him. “Look so good together. Sometimes when I touch him, we both pretend it's you.”

“Fuck.” Keith steals the word from him with a kiss.

“Wanna please you,” Keith murmurs against his mouth.

They way that he bucks up into Keith is a testament to how far they've come together. Shiro's hands are in his hair, Keith's on his chest and it's overwhelming, but in the best way. His breath hitches, but it's not out of fear.

“I-” he chokes out when Keith palms him slowly. “I want-”

“What do you want, baby,” Shiro says against his neck. “You gotta tell us.”

“I want to fuck you.”

They move in the span of a few breaths. Everything slows down and speeds up and Lance, not for the first time, thanks the universe for these two men and how much they understand him, because not once is it expected that he'll bottom. He breathes in relief, he knows they would make it good, but he's barely this side of dissociating in intimate moments as it is.

He presses up against Shiro’s back, pressing kisses as they open Keith up together. Soft pants and groans fill his ears. Keith stretched out and writhing and looking so goddamn hot, Lance can't even stand it. Shiro flips them around until Keith is hovering over Shiro on all fours and Lance is lining up behind him. He realizes as the head pushes into Keith's slick hole, that he's never been on this end of things.

Keith makes the most beautiful noise as he bottoms out, pushing his hips back into Lance. Shiro helps them set an easy pace.

“Breathtaking,” Shiro smiles up at Lance. He holds onto Keith's hips for dear life. “You're really missing a show, Kitten,” he stage whispers to Keith.

“I- ah- I want to see him,” Keith tells Shiro.

Shiro brushes the hair away from Keith's face, kissing him until they're both breathing heavily. Pupils blown wide look up to Lance.

“Help me?” Shiro smirks before unceremoniously turning Keith over with minimal help from Lance, gripping his ass and holding him open for Lance to slide back in.

And god, it's even better. He can see both of their faces. Shiro’s pleased, nearly smug, but unbelievable turned on. Keith's completely blissed out and needy, but so full of happiness.

His hips snap faster. Two sets of hands touching and holding him, urging him on. Keith arches, hands on Lance's shoulders, head thrown back next to Shiro’s, as Lance pistons his hips in a new angle. He can see and feel Shiro grinding against Keith's ass as Lance forces their bodies together with every thrust. He can't help but lean down and kiss them both before tipping over and spilling into Keith, both of their names tumbling out of his mouth.

Before he's even caught his breath, Keith is sitting up and claiming his lips as Shiro slips into Keith as Lance pulls out. He kisses Keith through riding Shiro until he's coming on Lance's stomach with a shout, Shiro rubbing his back. Lance lays a boneless and incredibly quiet Keith down on the bed before pouncing on Shiro and taking him into his mouth.

It's been years since he's done this, and the idea has been terrifying him for awhile, but he wants to see Shiro feel good, and in the moment he feels brave. His tongue barely swipes over the head before Shiro is cumming over his lips and cheeks.

“Sorry,” he pants. “Sorry, baby, you're just-”

“Too fucking hot,” Keith finishes as he licks the cum off Lance's face before kissing the life out of him. He realizes as they pull apart that Shiro has come back with a wet rag to clean them up.

He's never felt so satisfied after sex. Never felt so loved and appreciated. Never expected to not feel disgusting after sex and it makes him giggly as they tuck themselves into bed, wrapping around each other, Lance in the middle.

. . .

His thirtieth birthday has arrived. And it's such a bizarre feeling, when you never really expect to live this long or love this well, but here he is, and he's never been happier.

He's thirty and it's his birthday dinner in the bookshop, and the loves of his life are down on their knees, and it doesn't matter that he knows they can't actually get married, doesn't matter that they were apart for so long, they're his and he's their. And Coran is crying happy tears while Allura and Pidge record everything and Hunk is crying more than all of them combined, and he's so happy and breathless, and he thinks if he could go back and tell seven year old Lance anything, it would be that there is a happy ending, that life can be just as beautiful as his favorite stories, and it makes the shit in the middle worth it.

He looks around at the family he's made for himself. It's been a long bumpy road, and he's so thankful that they never gave up on him. Thankful that he didn't completely push Hunk and Pidge away, that Coran and Allura took him in, that Shiro and Keith came back into his life. Allura wants to open another Altea Books location now that Coran is retiring and she's taken over the old shop. She wants Lance to run it. He remembers only a few years ago how incomplete and insecure he was. He's still working on it, but he's come a long way.

Coran hands him his gift. It's wrapped kind of funny, but Lance expects nothing less. He tears away the paper and sees a first edition, immaculate copy of The Hobbit. It takes his breath away, and he looks up at Coran, then back, noticing the small slip of paper sticking out the top. He opens to it and sees a note scratched in Coran’s odd handwriting.

 _“So comes snow after fire, and even dragons have their ending.”_  
_Happy birthday, my boy. May all your dragons find their end. May your adventures be great, and know that home is always there when you need it.  
_Love, Coran__

____

____

Fresh tears spill over his cheeks as he pulls Coran into a tight hug.

“Thanks, Dad.”

**Author's Note:**

> [AMAZING ART BY THE INCREDIBLE SEVENFIVETWO](http://jhoca.tumblr.com/post/164317227241/commissioned-by-collector-of-hats-for)  
>   
>   
>     
> [AND NOW ART BY THE AMAZING HANNAHMELTO](https://joinmeinthishell.tumblr.com/post/166159415285/collector-of-hats-oh-my-what-is-this-here-art)  
>    
> And if you like what I do, please consider [buying me a coffee](https://ko-fi.com/A4054JO5)


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